


White Lie

by phantasmagorighoul (ghoullly)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Hajime & Nagito are Kokichi's parents !!, Little Kokichi, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Parenthood, Remnants of Despair (Dangan Ronpa), eventual angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-02-13 03:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 57,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21487657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoullly/pseuds/phantasmagorighoul
Summary: The Future Foundation decided to give a Remnant couple an orphaned child to raise (after they'd begged for months) as a "trial run" to see if the group was truly cured of despair. The pair immediately took to the child and doted on him, but the other Remnants also found themselves attached to the little boy, whether they wanted to admit it or not.Young Phantom Thief Kokichi Oma had stolen the hearts of the Remnants of Despair as they watched him grow up and-- as he got older--broke them just the same.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Oma Kokichi, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Komaeda Nagito & Oma Kokichi
Comments: 158
Kudos: 745





	1. Teruteru Hanamura

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends!!
> 
> this is my first time writing for danganronpa and i'm a lil nervous so please be nice! at this time i haven't seen 2.5 or the end of hope's peak, but i'm going to see them within the next couple of weeks, so please forgive me if some things don't make sense!
> 
> i've seen a couple of people play with the idea of an au where kokichi was raised by hajime and nagito and i LOVE it because kokichi has qualities of both of them (although arguably more kamukura than hajime sometimes). plus i'm a sucker for happy komahina and happy kokichi. (at least it'll be happy for a while...)
> 
> i'm going to try and update this as often as i can; there will be one chapter for each remnant and how they all bonded to kokichi as he was growing up. he'll be shown at different ages, but i'm going to try to go in chronological order so he grows up as the chapters move on

It was early, but Teruteru Hanamura always woke up an hour and a half before the others did to make breakfast.

He had everything out on the kitchen island, humming to himself as he prepared a variety of fruits on the cutting board. He never minded waking up before the sun even rose; he genuinely enjoyed cooking and knowing that his friends looked forward to his meals made the temporary grogginess worth it.

Placing an apple off to the side, Teruteru turned to peruse the wall of knives. (It was nice to see them there again; he hadn’t had the privilege to use any of them when they were still in the Program. Well, save for one...)

When he turned back around, the apple he’d placed on the cutting board was gone.

He blinked, confused, but shrugged it off as being too tired to have actually registered placing the apple there, and placed another one. 

He sliced that apple in half but then realized he’d grabbed the wrong knife--a knife this large wasn’t really necessary! He truly was half awake. 

He walked over to the sink to place the dirty knife there. When he went back over to the knife wall, he happened to catch a glance of the cutting board and noticed that these two slices of apple were gone as well.

Teruteru squinted. Carefully and without averting his eyes from the corner of the board, he grabbed another apple out of the bag and placed it where the other two had been sitting. He shuffled his feet a bit, turning his head to make it seem as if he were going to examine the knives again. After a moment, he turned back quickly, catching a small, pudgy arm reaching across from the underside of the table, their tiny palm gripping onto the apple.

“A- _ ha _ ~!” Teruteru cried out, and the small arm flinched and reeled back quickly, taking the apple with it. The chef grinned knowingly as he circled the table, ducking to look underneath the other side.

Hidden inside the cabinets, his cheeks stuffed full of apple like a chipmunk (and one in each fist), was little Kokichi. Big purple eyes stared back at him in the dark, glassy at first, almost as if he were going to cry from getting caught. However, a mischievous smile spread across his chubby face, and the imp burst into laughter with a full mouth.

“Are you stealing my apples, little one?” Teruteru teased, hands on his hips as Kokichi bit into one of the apples he held. “How naughty of you. You know you can’t do that.”

Kokichi said nothing, giggling and pulling his knees close to his chest, still squeezed into the back of the cabinet. He happily ate the fruit, humming quietly as Teruteru sighed.

“Do Daddy or Papa know that you’re here? You’re up awfully early.”

Kokichi shook his head dramatically. His purple flyaways bounced with the movement.

“Ooh, you’re going to get yourself in trouble, then,” Teruteru held out his hand, “Climb on out of there before one of them realizes you’re missing.”

The child reached out with a hand sticky from apple juice and allowed the cook to pull him out of the cabinet, still munching on an apple core.

“Oh--no, no, don’t eat that,” Teruteru hurriedly took the core away from the little boy, who puffed out his cheeks in a pout. He threw away the apple scraps, crouching down to see on Kokichi’s level.

“You really ought to go back home until it’s time for breakfast, alright? I don’t want your daddies to worry.”

“They won’t worry,” Kokichi finally spoke, smiling innocently (although everyone knew the child was a bit prankish), and Teruteru let out an unconvinced noise. His parents were infamous for being completely paranoid and protective when it came to the child. The second they realized he was gone they would be turning everything upside down to try and find him.

“Come on.” The chef gave the little boy a gentle nudge on the back, urging him toward the door. “Off you go.”

“But Hanamura-saaaaan!” Kokichi whined loudly, stamping his feet. “I don’t wanna go back! I’m not tired!”

“I would love to have your company,” Teruteru said, nudging him closer to the door, “but you need to make sure you ask your daddies before wandering off so early in the morning, alright?”

Kokichi opened his sticky mouth to argue again, but as if on cue, his name was called loudly from the entrance of the building. The boy’s face paled and he stepped back until he bumped into Teruteru, biting nervously on his thumb and toying with his hair. His eyes were glossy in fear.

Before the chef could really do anything, Nagito Komaeda appeared in the doorway, body loosening immediately at the sight of the boy as he sighed in relief. He walked over and easily scooped Kokichi into his arms, nuzzling against his cheek. (Teruteru noted that his hair was even more of a mess than usual and that he lacked a shirt (a fabulous sight he forced himself to look away from out of respect for Hajime); he must have been asleep.)

“You can’t wander off like that, Kokichi...” Nagito scolded, but his voice was gentle and quiet, the boy wrapping his arms around his father’s shoulders and nervously playing with the pink hair at the nape of his neck. The stickiness on his fingers from the apples made the strands stick to his hands.

“S-Sorry, Papa...” Kokichi sniffled, lower lip popped out in childish apology as he fought off tears. He closed his eyes when his dad ran a metallic hand through his messy purple locks, suddenly tired again.

“I’m sorry, Hanamura-kun,” Nagito bowed a bit with Kokichi still in his arms, “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

“Oh, no need to worry, he did no such thing.” Teruteru smiled reassuringly, looking at the yawning boy. It had taken a moment for him to take to his new parents after being brought to Jabberwock at a young age, but once he had grown attached, he was inseparable. Nagito and Hajime had taken to him as well and their friends had learned to get used to the sides of them they hadn’t quite seen before. Teruteru still wasn’t quite used to the Nagito that treated the boy with such gentleness that one would’ve thought that the child was made of porcelain. He watched the white-haired man kiss at his child’s cheeks and bounce him a bit in his arms as he nodded off, head rested against his father’s shoulder. It was difficult for Teruteru to look at this man and not see the teenager with crazed eyes, a broom in one fist, and a knife in the other that he had seen all those years ago. Glowing paint covering his hands. Words and phrases that didn’t quite make sense falling from his mouth. 

_ The one he had  _ really  _ meant to impale. _

Teruteru shook away the godawful thought. Those times were behind them; they were all under the influence of something so terrible that it would be unfair to judge Nagito by the way he acted whilst in the Program. The Nagito that stood before him was much calmer and stable; he supposed part of that had to do with the boy and Hajime helping ground him.

“I’ll leave you be, Hanamura-kun,” Nagito began to back up, shifting his grip so he could hold Kokichi better, “sorry again. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

With that, Nagito Komaeda turned on his heel and left, taking the child that the Remnants of Despair loved to dote on back to their cottage. Teruteru just stood in solitary silence for a moment before striding back over to the knife wall, grabbing the correct tool and picking up where he had left off. He was in a somewhat better mood than he had been in before.


	2. Sonia Nevermind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the ultimate princess teaches kokichi tea party etiquette!!

Kokichi couldn’t suppress a giggle as he gently bowed toward the princess across from him, who curtseyed back. Sonia reached out to him, a soft smile on her done-up face.

“It is a pleasure to get to have tea with you, Kokichi!” She declared, breathy voice a comfort to the child. “I understand you have been busy with your diplomatic duties, so it is very nice of you to have cleared up your schedule a bit just for me!”

The purple-haired boy furrowed his brow in thought of how to correctly respond. The blonde princess brought a hand to her mouth to hide a giggle at the innocence and his desire to please.

“Of...” Violet eyes flicked up to stare through thick eyelashes in search of approval, and Sonia nodded gently. “Of course, Princess Sonia; it’s been a li’l while...”

The princess grinned, charmed by the boy’s wholesomeness, and guided the boy to his seat. They were only in the restaurant, but she had set a table up with a cloth, tea, and biscuits all the same.

Sonia had to reach underneath Kokichi’s arms to lift him up to the chair; he was incredibly short, even for a small child. Once he was in place, she walked around to her side of the table, sitting down and smoothing her skirt. There were two open seats--one on the left and one on the right--on the other sides of the table, and the woman winked at the child.

“Kokichi,” she whispered, “are you perhaps forgetting our other guests?”

The little boy thought for a moment before he let out an incredibly loud gasp, jaw falling and eyes blowing wide. “Oh--!” He scrambled out of his chair, sliding down until his feet hit the floor and his shirt catching on the cushion, nudging it halfway up his back. The princess smiled endearingly as she watched the child rush over toward the stairs (keeping a careful eye on him to ensure he didn’t tumble down them on accident) and scoop up his stuffed animals. Kokichi grunted as he arched his back so he could carry them higher and protect them from dragging on the floor. Sonia chuckled to herself as Kokichi shuffled across the restaurant, peeking out from behind the plushies that were nearly the same size he was. When he reached her again, he swooped out his arms with a sigh, letting them tumble to the floor before picking one back up (his favorite, she knew, plus it was evident in the worn fabric and loose buttons). He carried Her over to the seat on Sonia’s left, scooting the chair out and propping Her up with careful precision.

Sonia felt her heart fall a bit at the sight of her, yet it was almost refreshing to see her again, even if it wasn’t really... Her. 

Satisfied with Monomi’s posture, Kokichi pushed her chair in before moving to the other empty seat.

Sonia was drawn in by the stuffed animal, who looked almost exactly the same as she Had in the Program. Mismatched button eyes stared across the table, a small smile stitched onto her pink and white face, and her faded bow nearly falling off of her ear where the threads were coming loose. When he had first learned that they were going to be allowed to adopt, Hajime had immediately gathered the materials to sew the baby a handful of oversized stuffed animals to act as comfort objects. (Nagito desperately wanted to help, but he had accidentally stitched into his own fingers and knotted the threads and broke the needles when he had tried, so he settled with watching his husband instead.) Monomi had been Kokichi’s favorite from the day they gave her to him; he’d teethed on her ears and drooled on her belly and cuddled her when his parents weren’t around to do it. He’d only had her for a couple of years, but parts of the fleece were worn down in patches and her button eyes had to be sewn back on several times. It appeared that her bow was the most recent thing that needed fixed up, but Hajime must not have noticed yet. 

Monomi was beat up after years of love from the little boy, but something told Sonia that if she had been real like she seemed to be in the Program, she wouldn’t have minded at all.

“Princess Sonia?”

The woman snapped out of her trance, looking back over to the boy and smiling. “Oh! I’m very sorry, Kokichi, what did you say?”

“Can you...” Kokichi grunted again, trying to push a second stuffed animal on the chair where another one already sat. Sonia reached over to pull the bear by the ear, sitting it straight up. The chair was cramped now, the two bears not really able to fit.

“Kokichi, maybe we should pull up another chair?” She suggested, but Kokichi climbed back into his own chair, nearly tipping it over in the process (which gave her a heart attack).

“No, no, Shirokuma and Kurokuma  _ need _ to share a seat...” The boy puffed his cheeks out, eyes welling up with tears as his breath grew shallow. Sonia held out her hands in panic, leaning forward in her seat.

“It’s okay; it’s alright! They can share, it is no big deal!” She didn’t want to press the child even further by asking why that was necessary, so she chose to just leave it alone. Kokichi blinked away the water in his eyes as he relaxed into his seat, watching the princess. She cleared her throat and straightened her back, shoulders back and head raised. Kokichi, eager to mirror her, did the same thing, immediately forgetting about the previous issue.

“Now!” Sonia said, reaching for the teapot with a smile, “It is the custom in my country for the host to pour the tea, so...!”

The princess placed one hand on the lid and the other on the handle, standing so she would be able to reach all of the cups properly. She carefully poured into the twin bears’ cups first (it was grape juice, because she knew the boy had an affinity for grape and was probably too young to enjoy tea), then gave Monomi some extra. Finally, she poured into Kokichi’s cup, the boy hunched over to watch fixedly. 

Gracefully sitting back down, Sonia placed the teapot back carefully. “It is important that the spout of the teapot is facing whoever was the one to pour! So, I have to make sure that I am able to see the spout!”

Kokichi nodded, completely sucked into his etiquette lesson. The princess picked up the small spoon that was resting on her saucer and Kokichi hurried to do the same, pinching it between his fingers.

“You must stir your tea if it is too hot! Do you think it is too hot, Kokichi?”

The child hummed in thought, peering into his cup. He studied the liquid carefully--it wasn’t emitting steam, but only because it had been taken out of the restaurant fridge a few minutes before--before lifting his head and blinking.

“Yes.” He said.

“Okay,” Sonia couldn’t hide the grin that spread across her face, “so take your spoon and place the big part towards the front of your cup, and just swish it back and forth like so!”

The princess gently swished the spoon and watched Kokichi mirror her.

“Do not stir in circles! That is a no-no.” Sonia held up her spoon and waited until the child was done. “When you are finished, you must be sure to place the spoon back on your saucer where it was before!”

Kokichi nodded, setting the spoon back down on his saucer so carefully that the sound of metal on porcelain wasn’t even audible. Sonia hummed with a nod and a raise of her eyebrows; that was actually kind of impressive.

“Princess Sonia, can we drink the tea now?” Kokichi whined, slouching in his chair a bit.

“We’re just getting there, Kokichi,” she winked at him, picking up her teacup, “now--make sure that you do not look over your cup when you take a drink. You must look  _ into  _ your cup, and never slurp!”

She took a small sip of the grape juice, setting her cup back on the saucer. Sonia smiled gently, nodding her head towards the child. “Your turn.”

Kokichi looked at his cup as if it were the most daunting task he’d ever been given, carefully reaching out and taking hold of the handle. He lifted it up, watching the juice inside swish a bit at the movement before looking up at the blonde for reassurance. “L-Like this?”

“Yes, yes! Pinky up! Oh--no, perhaps...” Sonia leant across the table, gently grabbing the child’s wrist to guide the teacup back down to the table. Kokichi watched with wide, curious eyes as the princess turned and adjusted his hand as she saw fit. The boy made a noise of intrigue as she let go, showing him how he was now holding the handle of the cup with only his thumb, index, and middle fingers.

“This is to help balance and prevent you from spilling your tea on yourself,” she explained with a determined smile, index in the air matter-of-factly, “and the pinky is just the royal thing to do!”

Kokichi nodded, smiling in pride and letting out a pleased giggle before bringing the teacup to his lips and taking a drink.

“Be sure not to slurp, Kokichi!” Sonia coached gently, “Very good! Look into your cup as you sip!"

Hajime had come up the stairs slowly, an amused grin on his face as he peered around the support beam by the banisters. Sonia was definitely getting into it, and as was Kokichi--although, when he set the cup back down, his upper lip was stained purple. Before Sonia could explain the etiquette for the napkin, the boy swiped his tongue across it with a laugh.

Kokichi happened to catch the black of his father’s coat in the corner of his eye, face brightening at the sight. “Daddy!” He cried out, reaching out his arms as Hajime walked over, waving at Sonia.

“Hello, little one,” Hajime greeted, hugging the boy tightly and kissing his cheek before smoothing down the child’s hair. “God, your hair’s a mess. Your Papa needs to brush it out better in the mornings.”

“Princess Sonia and I are having a tea party!” Kokichi blurted, grinning across the table at the woman, who smiled back.

“Are you?” Hajime played into it, glancing at the stuffed animals that were also graciously given cups. 

“Yeah! Daddy, you should join!”

Hajime smiled at the child and glanced to Sonia. “I don’t think this is my call.”

“I would love to have you, if you are not busy and would like to join!” Sonia immediately said, gesturing at the twin bears’ seat before remembering that, technically, it was taken. She glanced around at the other tables, considering pulling up a chair. “Oh--um... perhaps--”

“--No worries, Sonia,” Hajime gave a wave of his hand before picking Kokichi up with one arm, the boy letting out a squeak of surprise. “I’ll just sit here.” With that, he sat down and set his son in his lap; the boy crossed his arms with a whine.

“ _ Daaaaaddy _ , that’s not proper et--proper... ettique...”

“I shall let it pass for one circumstance,” Sonia giggled, nudging the teapot towards the two. “Kokichi, would you like to show your Daddy what you have learned?”

Eyes lighting up, Kokichi instantly forgot about the breach of tea party code (even though he had allowed it for his bears) and eagerly lifted up the pot, blabbering on about spouts and spoons and whatnot. Hajime listened as he held onto Kokichi’s waist to support him in his lap, sharing knowing grins with the princess across from him whenever the boy would say something particularly childlike. Kokichi demonstrated a proper pour into his own cup and let his father have it instead, who took a drink and made a show out of praising the boy for such good taste in tea. The child grinned from ear to ear, having a wonderful time with the two adults.

Monomi never took her eyes off of the reflection in her teacup, content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am now knowledgeable in basic tea etiquette and so are you (judging off of a source i found anyway)


	3. Ibuki Mioda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sleepover!! sleepover!! sleepover!!
> 
> also title change yeehaw

“Ibuki is  _ super  _ excited for our sleepover, Kokichi!!”

The rockstar sat on the floor of her cottage, legs criss-crossed as she hugged a pillow tightly to her chest. She wore fuzzy pajama pants and had her long black hair tied into two pigtails, although the drills remained on the top of her head. The small boy still lingered by the door, half hiding behind his fathers’ legs. Both men chuckled, Nagito bending down to wrap an arm around the child’s shoulders.

“Don’t be nervous, Kichi,” he murmured against the wild purple hair, “It’s just Mioda-san. It’ll only be for the night; you’ll have fun.”

Kokichi sniffled and nodded, a handful of his father’s fluffy white hair in his fist to comfort himself. Hajime bent down too, gently coaxing the tiny hand out of his husband’s hair so the boy didn’t pull on accident and hurt him. He opted to hold that hand instead.

“Papa and I won’t be gone. We’ll still be here on the island; we’re not leaving you behind.” Soft mismatched eyes peered into Kokichi’s big purple ones, and Hajime squeezed the hand in his. “So I don’t want you to worry. Okay? We love you so, so much; we’d never go someplace far away without taking you with us.”

Kokichi nodded again, swallowing as Hajime gently smiled at him. “Okay, Daddy.”

“Plus, Mioda-san has lots of stuff planned for you two to do!” Nagito chimed in, “It’ll go by quickly, and before you know it, it’ll be morning already.”

Kokichi wiped at his watery eyes, smiling and nodding yet again, squeezing Monomi tighter with his free arm. At the same time, Nagito and Hajime pressed kisses to Kokichi’s cheeks, Nagito blowing a raspberry there to coax a laugh out of the little boy. They both stood back up, Hajime squeezing Kokichi’s shoulder.

“Have lots of fun, okay?” Nagito’s voice was gentle and was an immediate comfort to the child. Kokichi hugged at his parents’ legs and they hugged back.

“Thank you, Ibuki,” Hajime hummed, “We really owe you one.”

The woman let out a whoop so loud that it made Nagito flinch and Hajime put a grounding hand on his husband’s shoulder. “It’s no problem! You know Ibuki  _ looooves  _ Kokichi! Kokichi is welcome day or night!”

The family said their goodbyes one last time before Hajime shut the door behind them, leaving the purple-haired child at the doormat with Monomi in one arm and his overnight bag in the other. Ibuki blinked at him, and when he didn’t do or say anything, she let out a yell and splayed herself out on the carpet, throwing the pillow she had across the room.

“What do you want to do, Kokichi?” Ibuki pondered, staring up at the ceiling while the child still stood at the door. He let out a hum of uncertainty, shuffling forward a bit and sitting down on the area rug, setting Monomi in his lap. He picked at the seams on the sides of her belly.

“I dunno...” He mumbled shyly.

Ibuki lifted her head, squinting her eyes dramatically with a hum before shooting back up to a sitting position, leaning towards Kokichi in investigation.

“Ooh, are you still nervous? Don’t be!” She reached out to ruffle his hair; it was still damp from when he had taken a shower and got in his pajamas before coming over. Cold water droplets flew everywhere. “It’s just Ibuki! Ibuki and Kokichi have hung out before!”

“Y-Yeah, but...” Kokichi started, hiding his face behind Monomi’s ears. Ibuki thought for a moment before letting out a deep gasp.

“Could it be--?” Ibuki planted her hands on her knees, tilting forward and cocking her head. “Have you never had a sleepover before, little Kokichi?”

When the child’s cheeks turned red and he shook his head, Ibuki scrambled to her feet, running over to the corner of her cottage. She began to root through a pile of junk that she had resting on top of a cabinet.

“Oh, Ibuki is even  _ moooore  _ excited now!! Sleepovers were so fun when Ibuki was younger! Ibuki used to have sleepovers with Mahiru, and Hiyoko, and Mikan--”

Kokichi just watched, playing with Monomi’s ear as Ibuki threw things around and rambled on and made an overall mess of the room. Her chaotic energy and ability to bounce off the walls was easing him up a bit, though; his fathers didn’t really like noise, but if he was being honest, he kind of thrived off of it. In most situations, he was too nervous to be loud too, but he admired those who were able to do that and not feel guilty for hurting anybody else’s ears.

(His Papa  _ really  _ disliked noise--it made him really nervous, Daddy said--so Kokichi was used to being quiet, anyway.)

“Oh!! Kokichi, check it out!”

Kokichi lifted his head just as Ibuki started waving a floppy brown rectangle around wildly.

“What is it?” The boy softly asked.

“Popcorn!!” The rockstar did what could best be described as slamming the bag directly in the back of her microwave, whipping the door shut and punching something into the keypad. When the tray on the inside began to spin, she skipped over to her TV and bent down without looking back at the boy.

“Does Kokichi wanna watch a movie?”

Feeling a bit more comfortable, Kokichi propped Monomi up against his overnight bag and crawled over next to Ibuki to examine her DVDs.

“Can we watch a scary movie?” He asked.

“ _ Wooooooah!!  _ A horror movie?! How old are you again?”

Kokichi thought, counting on his fingers. “I’m... four. My birthday is June twen-ty-first...”

“Don’cha think you’re awfully young to want to watch a horror movie?” Ibuki scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at him. “You’ll have nightmares!”

“But Daddy and Papa don’t let me! I wanna watch one! I can handle it!” The boy cried out, fully prepared to argue, but his childlike brain caught sight of something that already distracted him.

“Does that hurt?” Kokichi asked.

“Huuuuh?” Ibuki had pulled out a stack of DVDs she considered to be more kid-friendly (which, to be fair, was most of her collection, because she had similar taste).

“These,” Kokichi reached out to poke one of the three piercings that sat below her bottom lip, “do they hurt you?”

“Oh! My spider bites?” Ibuki pinched her lip with both sets of index fingers and thumbs, pulling it down so the child could see the inside of her mouth where the other half of the piercings sat. “Not at all! It hurt a little when Ibuki first got them, but now I can’t even feel them!”

“Woah...” The boy breathed in wonder as he reached out to poke the sharp backing of the piercing (which Ibuki didn’t mind). The rockstar sat patiently as Kokichi curiously toyed with all three, but she jolted at the sound of the microwave beeping.

“Popcorn’s done!!” She announced, scrambling up and rushing over to grab it. Kokichi reeled back to give her space when she got up. He just watched as she grabbed the blistering-hot bag with her whole hand, clamping her teeth down on the corner of the bag and tearing it open like an animal. A few pieces of popcorn flew out and tumbled across the counter and on the floor, but Ibuki didn’t really seem to care. She hurried over to the TV and tossed the open bag down, more popcorn spilling onto the hardwood.

Ibuki blew on her palm and shook it around like a wet towel. “Phew! That was hot! One more second and Ibuki’s hand would have burned off!”

Kokichi was going to mention how they could have waited a minute, but something told him she probably wouldn’t hear it anyway.

“Didja pick a movie out?” She asked, and Kokichi nodded sheepishly, pushing a case toward her. Ibuki let out a gasp.

“Oh, Ibuki  _ loves  _ this one! Have you seen this one before??” Before Kokichi could even respond, she kept going, fanning at her face and managing to fight off tears that came on... in an instant...? “The scene towards the end always makes Ibuki cry! It’s so sad, but it’s so good! Ibuki hates when things are sad but make you feel good, you know? So contradictory!”

Before the movie even started, she let out a yell as she hopped off of her bed, grabbing at her pillows and couch cushions.

“Ibuki almost forgot!! It’s not a sleepover without a pillow fort!!”

“Pillow fort...?” Kokichi shoved another fist full of popcorn in his mouth, leaning against Monomi next to him. His Daddy had fixed her bow for him and he’d been cuddling her extra hard now that he didn’t have to worry about it falling off.

“Yeah!” Ibuki slammed down a bunch of squishy objects--pillow, cushion, or not--on the floor in front of the TV and between the bed and the couch. She motioned for Kokichi to come down, and as he was climbing off of the bed she went around to gather the blankets she had in her cottage.

“So basically, we stack a bunch of cushions and pillows and cover them with blankets!” Once Kokichi was in the clear, she pulled her comforter off of her bed. “Then--voila! Pillow fort!”

Ibuki showed Kokichi how to strategically stack different cushions and pillows to get  _ just  _ the right amount of architectural support. The child was giggling as he pulled the blankets across the monoliths they’d made, a few of the cushions tumbling with Ibuki there to catch them.

Fifteen minutes later, they had a pillow fort with a TV inside.

“So cool!!” Ibuki clapped, Kokichi unable to hide a smile. The rockstar lifted a blanket up and widely gestured inside as if she were a valet driver.

“After you, young sir,” Ibuki said in a deep, fancy voice. (You could tell it was a fancy voice because she pursed her lips as she said it--like a fancy person.)

Kokichi flinched, purple hair bouncing as he turned his head in search. “Wait!” Ibuki just watched as the boy ran over to the bed, jumping and pulling himself up to grab his stuffed animal by the leg.

“Couldn’t leave Monomi out, huh?” Ibuki grinned as Kokichi crawled inside the fort, Monomi in tow. She grabbed the bag of popcorn.

“Never. She’s my best friend...” Kokichi murmured; Ibuki’s expression softened at that, but she chose not to say anything. Instead, she crawled inside too, and with everything in place, grabbed the remote to turn on the movie.

Ibuki and Kokichi chatted as they lay on their bellies, putting the bag in between them to share as they watched the movie. When they ran out, Ibuki made them more. At one point, the movie ended and Ibuki let Kokichi pick another one. Over the course of the night, Kokichi had become more comfortable with Ibuki’s rambunctiousness, even though it was something he had always been familiar with. 

Eventually though, the two had worn each other out, Kokichi falling asleep using Monomi as a pillow with one hand in the bag of popcorn. Ibuki had fallen asleep not long after, flat on her back with one leg stretched out. The movie title screen looped softly in the background all night.

Mioda-san was really cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hajime and nagito deserve a break every once and a while. ibuki is v energetic and upbeat so she would be the perfect babysitter for Smol
> 
> these chapters keep getting longer and longer. i need to stop writing so much before each chapter is like 10 pages and i burn myself out before i get through everyone lkasdjhfl


	4. Gundham Tanaka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kokichi hangs out at the ranch for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i discovered that gundham is actually really hard for me to write, so please excuse any ooc-ish things! i wanted gundham's chapter to be when kokichi was still really little so i HAD to get this one done now but i didn't really want to stump myself on it any longer so i can continue with this fic!!
> 
> i also am going to be working on my piece for the komahina secret exchange alongside this one, so i'm hoping my updates on this won't slow too, too much!

It was hot on the ranch, but Kokichi never minded; he enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his skin.

He sat on the dusty trail leading into the barn, sketchbook in his lap as he scribbled whatever he could think of at the time. He wasn’t being babysat, per se; the cool thing about Jabberwock Island was that it was only him, his dads, and their friends, so as long as Kokichi stayed away from the ocean he had free range of the island (except for the fifth one). On a typical day, he bounced around to hang around whoever he felt like until he got bored and went off to do something else.

On this particular day, he told his Papa that he wanted to go watch Tanaka-san work with the animals. 

Gundham wasn’t typically talkative when he was working, but Kokichi didn’t mind; he just liked to watch him tame and feed and talk to the animals.

Kokichi’s favorite were the moo cows. He always looked forward to when the babies were born in the spring, because they were all fuzzy and had knobbly, unsteady legs when they tried to walk. With Gundham around, Kokichi was able to play with the calves without their mothers having to worry about the boy hurting their babies or vice versa. (His favorite was when they’d all lay in a pile and take a nap, because then he could use them for pillows.)

For now, though, the child was content drawing as Gundham tended to the chickens.

Kokichi hummed, glancing up every now and then when he heard Gundham talking, but it was always to the animals. He found it super cool how they all listened to him.

Satisfied with his drawing, the little boy set the book down in the dust and stood up, brushing off his legs. He wandered over to Gundham, who had a chicken on his shoulder as he cleaned out the coop.

“Tanaka-san?” He wrung his hands, leaning in to check out what he was doing.

Gundham let out a grunt, Kokichi having snuck up on him, and pulled his upper body out of the coop to look at the child. The chicken on his shoulder flapped its wings in surprise.

“What is it, young mortal child?” It was hot, yet Gundham still wore his scarf; he looked kind of silly, Kokichi thought. His eyes were mismatched just like his Daddy’s, except Tanaka-san’s left eye was the red one, not his right. He liked to pretend that he was really tough and mean, but Kokichi knew Gundham was a giant softie. (Everyone else pretty much knew that, too, so the boy wasn’t sure why he kept the act up.)

“What are you doing?” Kokichi asked.

“ _ Heh.”  _ Gundham adjusted his scarf. “Funny you should ask. I was just about to request your humble assistance, if you are not busy...”

“Oh!” Kokichi lit up, balling his fists in front of him excitedly. “What’s up?” He remembered his fathers lightly scolding him to remember his manners, so he cleared his throat and quickly rephrased himself to, “what can I help you with?”

“I am currently in the process of cleaning out the coop, but I failed to bring the bag of feed over. Could you possibly fetch it from the barn and bring it to me?”

Kokichi nodded, flyaways bouncing and eyes lit up, and he started to run across the field. He knew right where the feed was! His heart was thumping in his ears and he was panting from the physical activity, but he heard Gundham happen to call over, “Do not run please; you’ll trip,” and he slowed to a walk.

The barn doors were already open from when Gundham had gotten hay out earlier. It wasn’t big, but it was only to store supplies; the stables were next door. Kokichi wandered in, glancing around for the bag of chicken feed. He saw buckets, hay, tools, and other things, but he couldn’t find the bag.

Upon snooping a bit more, he was able to find it, but it was half his size. He genuinely tried to pick it up, but his little arms didn’t stand a chance. Frowning, Kokichi glanced around for anything smaller. He remembered the buckets and went over to one, picking it up and carrying it back over to the feed.

The child reached inside the open bag and grabbed a handful, pulling it out and tossing it into the bucket. It wasn’t a lot, but if he kept doing it, he would have a full bucket eventually.

Kokichi sat down on the cold cement floor, blindly reaching in and pulling out fistful after fistful of feed. At one point when he closed his fist, he closed it on something warm and fluffy; both he and whatever he squeezed let out a squeal as he ripped his hand out of the bag in fear. The child held his hand to his chest as he peered in with glassy eyes in fear of what was in there.

One of the Dark Devas had been taking a nap inside and had been squished awake. However, he didn’t really seem to mind; his little nose twitched as he looked up at the purple-haired boy. The fat orange hamster appeared to be even bigger than usual; he had likely been eating the feed and fell asleep with a full belly.

Kokichi lit up again, sticking his hand back in to offer out his palm. He giggled when the chubby animal climbed onto him, pulling him back out and planting a kiss on his fuzzy back.

“Hi, Cham-P!” Kokichi greeted, the hamster lifting his head and giving soft licks on the tip of the child’s nose. Content, Cham-P crawled up Kokichi’s arm and nestled against his neck, resting on his shoulder. Relieved it hadn’t been anything scary, the boy went back to scooping the feed into the bucket.

He’d always loved the Four Dark Devas of Destruction ever since he was little(r). Kokichi didn’t remember much about being super little, but he could recall his Papa telling him that when he was  _ really  _ small, he had been crying and clinging to his dads and wouldn’t calm down. His Papa and Daddy were apparently frustrated to tears because they didn’t know what to do, but Gundham had approached them silently and offered out his hand. Cham-P had been in his palm and the lax hamster had waddled onto Kokichi’s shoulder and rested there just as he was now; Kokichi had apparently stopped immediately. Since then, whenever the child was upset and couldn’t be soothed, they just got the Devas to calm him down.

(He didn’t want to tell the other three, but Cham-P was his favorite.)

With the bucket nearly full, Kokichi got up onto his feet and clasped the metal handle with both hands, bracing himself. Cham-P adjusted himself so he wouldn’t fall off the boy’s shoulders, tiny paws just barely digging into the child’s tender skin.

With a grunt, Kokichi lifted up the bucket--it was heavy!--and had to bow his back in order to actually lift the thing off the ground. His arms were pulled taut as he began to slowly shuffle out of the barn. Cham-P let out a concerned squeak into Kokichi’s ear, but the tiny prankster was imminent on carrying out the task he’d been given. Gundham was still cleaning out the inside of the coops from what the child could tell.

Carefully moving across the grass, the little boy set down the bucket to give his arms and back a break every couple of steps. Gundham didn’t seem to hear him at all from having his head inside the cages, so Kokichi kept going, giggling to himself as he set the bucket down again and caught his breath.

Eventually, he made it over to Gundham again, and when he didn’t immediately turn around, Kokichi yelled out,  _ “Boo!” _

Gundham made a show of flinching and nearly banging his head on the shelf of the coop, whirling around with a hand on his chest as the child broke into a fit of laughter. A knowing smile twinged the corner of Gundham’s mouth when the boy wasn’t looking, but the second he lifted his head again, the startled expression was back and the man exhaled loudly.

“I am usually very receptive, especially being stuck on an island full of mortal beings, but you appear to have caught me off guard...” 

Kokichi whooped with laughter again and Gundham allowed himself to smile at the boy without hiding it, catching sight of the mass of fluff resting on the child’s shoulder.

“ _ Ah!  _ Invading Black Dragon... have you sought refuge behind the boy’s neck?” Gundham reached out and scratched a finger behind Cham-P’s ear, the hamster tilting his head into the touch. “He is most lucky. Your company is revitalizing to anyone who is fortunate enough to be blessed with it.”

“Actually, Tanaka-san, do you want to take him back?” Kokichi asked, holding his palm out to the hamster again, who waddled over. “I was going to go home.”

“Leaving already, young one?” The Ultimate Breeder didn’t question it, though, and scooped up the overweight hamster. The animal shuffled up the man’s bandaged arm and crawled into his scarf, resting there and weighing down the fabric significantly. Kokichi nodded, curling some of his hair around his finger. (His Daddy had told him that he needed to learn to stop doing that because it made his hair stick out, but it was comforting to him, and half the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it.)

“Yeah. I’m kind of hungry, so I might bother Hanamura-san to make me a snack.” The young boy smiled, waving. “Thanks for letting me hang out with you, Tanaka-san!”

Gundham nodded and bid him goodbye, watching him drag his feet through the grass, reaching down to pet a chicken as he passed it. The animals didn’t seem to mind Kokichi much even though he was small; they knew he meant no harm, and as long as Gundham was around, they had no reason to be nervous. The chicken fluffed its feathers as the child pet in between its wings for a moment before continuing on his way. The breeder went back to dealing with the coop, the hamster in his scarf having fallen asleep already.

When Gundham had finished, he went to carry the supplies back into the barn when he noticed something sitting by the buckets. Intrigued, he set everything down by the industrial sink and went over to investigate. 

A piece of paper rested on the concrete. Gundham picked it up and immediately felt a smile spread across his face.

It was a crudely drawn picture of a tall man with four distinct round animals on both of his arms. Next to him was a child with wild purple hair, a wide smile on their face. They were surrounded by all sorts of animals; Gundham was able to figure out that they were chickens, cows, and barn cats. There was as much detail put in that a four-year-old boy was capable of, and Kokichi had been sitting in the dirt for quite a while when he had been working in his sketchbook.

Before he did anything else, Gundham pinned the drawing up to the inside of the barn door, taking a moment to smile and take it in again before moving on to feed the cats.


	5. Hiyoko Saionji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hiyoko wants to try out some new makeup on small purple boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> older hiyoko seems like she'd like makeup? and if she doesn't well,,. oop lmao

“Hey... sit still, okay? This might pinch a little, sorry...”

Kokichi tried to stay as still as possible as Hiyoko leaned close, closing the curler down on his purple eyelashes. She was right; it pinched his eyelid a little, and he let out a whine as he pulled back. Hiyoko immediately opened the curler and reeled back.

“Oh God, did I hurt you?” She clenched her teeth in fear, eyes flitting across the child’s face to detect any sort of indication that he was about to cry. Kokichi just blinked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Mm, no, it’s okay.” Kokichi continued to rub at his one eye.

“No, I hurt you!” Hiyoko set down the curler, reaching out to gently brush her fingers across his left cheek. “I’m sorry, Kokichi. I won’t try that anymore.”

Saionji-san was only gentle towards a select few; Kokichi was one of those few (whether that was because she genuinely liked him, just treated him like that because he was little, or because she was afraid of his dads getting mad at her he had no clue). She enjoyed doing makeup. She was always done up nice, quite similar to Princess Sonia; her long blonde hair was always tied up in a ponytail that sat on the top of her head. She wore kimono less and less these days, though; she was the Ultimate Traditional Dancer when she was in high school, but she seemed like she was distancing herself from that for some reason. 

Everyone had been at breakfast that morning when she’d come over to him, his Papa, and his Daddy and asked if she could put makeup on Kokichi so he would look nice when the Future Foundation came to talk to him later that day.

(Both Hajime and Nagito had figured that she just wanted a canvas to work with that wasn’t herself, but neither really minded.)

“Okay, I won’t do that anymore.” Hiyoko set the curler down and dug through her makeup bag, fishing out a mascara. “Come here.”

Kokichi scooted a little closer, closing his eyes.

“No, no, open them.”

He opened his eyes and watched as she pulled the spoolie out of the canister coated in black.

“This is the same stuff I use!” Hiyoko blinked for dramatic effect. “It makes your lashes look ten times longer. You might not care about that now, but if you decide to wear makeup when you’re older you definitely will, trust me.”

The jittery little boy tried his best to keep still as she carefully brushed over his eyelashes.

“This probably isn’t going to mean anything to you, but you have really pretty lashes for a boy,” Hiyoko said, mouth held slightly open in focus as she moved to his second set.

Kokichi blinked. “Thank you, Saionji-san.”

She laughed; despite the fact that she was a grown woman, her laugh still carried a childish quality to it.

“You don’t get it. That’s okay. You know, Nagito has nice lashes too, but don’t tell him I said that...”

Hiyoko capped the mascara and Kokichi fought off the urge to immediately touch his eyes because they felt weird.

“Is that my Papa?”

“Yeah, Nagito’s your Papa. I think.” She hummed, tucking away that tube and pulling out a handful of brushes. “Or is Hajime your Papa?” She turned to him. “How can you tell them apart? Like, how can you tell who’s your Papa and who’s your Dad?”

Kokichi’s response was immediate; his face lit up and he smiled ear to ear. “Papa’s the one who reads me stories when I can’t sleep and gives me lots of kisses when I’m sad, and Daddy’s the one who carries me around when my legs get tired and gives really good hugs!”

Hiyoko made a noise, flipping the blush lid open. “Oh, okay. That clears things up.”

Luckily, the child was too carefree to take the sarcasm to heart, and he giggled when the brush bristles ticked his cheeks.

“What’s this?” He innocently asked as Hiyoko blushed his other cheek.

“Blush! It makes your cheeks rosier than they usually are.” The woman grinned and pinched his cheek, tugging lightly and laughing when the boy let out a squeal. “Your cheeks are always really pink, though, so we don’t have to use as much as usual.”

Kokichi was content with this. The makeup made his face feel weird, but in a good way. He hummed a tune his Papa sang to him sometimes, closing his eyes and kicking his legs back and forth off of her bed. She opted to stand, bending down when she applied more makeup, but she was still fairly short so it didn’t really matter. He lifted his chin a little when he felt another brush on his cheeks.

“What’s that one?” He asked.

“Contour; it gives your face depth.” Kokichi could tell by the way that she was talking that she had her tongue poking out of her mouth a bit in concentration. “I’m not gonna put a lot on you. You’re pretty young for contour, but I wanted to try it out anyway.”

Hiyoko had finished that and went on to pulling out highlight; Kokichi opened his eyes and played with the bottom of his shirt. He puffed out his cheeks as she brushed them, pointing to her makeup collection wordlessly.

“What...?” Hiyoko turned, looking it over in confusion. “What’s the matter?”

“I want to use  _ that, _ ” He pointed, shifting her gaze to an eyeshadow palette.

“I think eyeshadow would be a little much, Kokichi,” She admitted, pulling out an eyeliner, “You’re only five. A little bit of makeup is okay, but I don’t want to drift into that freaky toddlers-in beauty-pageants territory...”

“But  _ Saionji-saaaan!”  _ Kokichi began to whine, kicking his legs against the bed frame, and Hiyoko wasn’t going to have any of it. Someone who whined themselves had no sympathy for another whiner, no matter how young they were.

“Sorry, Kokichi, I don’t think your parents would appreciate me handing you back over with purple smothering your eyelids.”

“But--but-- _ but--” _

“No.”

_ “Saaaaiiionjiiii--” _

_ “--Kokichi.” _

The stern tone shut him up, the child’s hand immediately moving up to wind a finger around a flyaway. All of the adults had permission to scold Kokichi need be, as long as they weren’t out of line, of course; Kokichi hated that, because he was beginning to grow much more mischievous. He knew Hiyoko wouldn’t actually yell at him, but even the sound of an adult raising their voice at him made him stop whatever he was trying to accomplish. He supposed he could always wear eyeshadow when he got older.

Hiyoko pursed her lips and squinted, looking the child over.

“...Tell you what.” She said after a moment, Kokichi’s eyes flickering.

“I’m not gonna do eyeshadow, but I can give you extra eyeliner,” She took the cap of the liquid liner off with her teeth, “that way your eyes still look cool. That sound fair?”

The purple-haired child nodded quickly, and Hiyoko grinned, bending down and putting a hand on his chin to steady it.

“Stay still, okay?”

Kokichi thought she was taking an awful long time to do even just one of his eyes; the liner kind of burned when it got close to his waterlines, but he didn’t say anything because he didn’t want her to change her mind. After what seemed like forever, Hiyoko told him he could open his eyes now that the liner was dry. He did so and was surprised that it felt like she’d put cement on his eyelids.

“It feels weird, yeah,” Hiyoko laughed, “but you’re almost done! I’m gonna give you lip gloss because I think it’ll look cute.”

She’d pulled one out and had been smoothing it across his lips when she hummed. “Hey, what do you even talk to the Future Foundation about, anyway? It’s kinda weird that they just want you alone to talk to...”

“I’m not allowed to tell anybody, not even Papa or Daddy.” Kokichi’s response was actually fairly serious. “It’s very important that I don’t talk about anything Naegi-san and I talk about.”

Hiyoko nodded in understanding, but Kokichi knew by the way her voice sounded when she asked that she’d already known the answer. She had just been hoping he’d slip up.

Kokichi Oma might have been small, but he was already incredibly smart for his age.

When they’d finally finished, Hiyoko capped the lip gloss and picked the boy up to carry him to the bathroom mirror so he could see. Kokichi giggled excitedly; the lip gloss tasted like strawberries, though, so he couldn’t help but start licking it off of his lips.

“There!” Hiyoko said, hoisting him up a bit further, the child’s arms around her neck. Kokichi peered at his reflection, whose face was done up rather nicely, thick black eyeliner surrounding his eyes in such a way that his eyes appeared way bigger than they actually were. He smiled wide and Hiyoko couldn’t help but do the same.

“You like it?”

“I  _ love  _ it!” Kokichi looked over at the woman, licking at his lips. “Can we go show Papa and Daddy?”

Hiyoko sighed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Yeah, I guess if that’s what you wanna do...”

Kokichi then insisted on having his fathers take him around the island before the meeting to show off his makeup. Never ones to tell him no, they did just as he asked.

The Future Foundation thought his makeup looked really nice, too, and the second they’d told him that, he decided that he wanted Hiyoko to do his makeup before every meeting until he could learn how to do his own.


	6. Mahiru Koizumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mahiru gets kokichi a present for his 7th birthday.

Kokichi  _ loved  _ celebrating his birthday, because in the morning, his dads would wake him up and smother him with hugs and kisses; Hanamura-san always made him waffles for breakfast with lots and lots of chocolate chips.

(He also enjoyed it--out of pure childlike fashion--because he always got lots and lots of presents and gifts.)

His dads got him the most every year, but all of the others always gave him presents, too (typically somewhere within their own interests as well). Souda-san gave him a small, handmade Monomi robot that he could control with a remote, Saionji-san gave him a few different types of lip glosses, and Owari-san gave him a skateboard to learn how to ride (much to his Daddy’s chagrin).

Needless to say, he was spoiled rotten, and the adults on the island showed no signs of stopping this any time soon.

It had been early in the afternoon when Mahiru had come through the hotel ground gates. Kokichi had asked if he could sit by the pool and he was, his ankles dipped in the water as he swooshed them around. He had the remote in his hand as he controlled the robot Monomi on the other side of the pool, careful not to bring her close to the water.

The red-haired woman grinned, a box in her arms, and she made sure her feet were light as she snuck over to him. She neared the poolside and cleared her throat.

“The birthday boy’s all by himself?”

The still-small boy flinched at the sound of her voice, his flyaway cow licks bouncing, and he turned around with a smile on his face.

“Koizumi-san!” He yelled, pulling his feet out of the water and running over to her; his feet slapped the concrete and left dark marks behind that would evaporate in a few minutes. She gave him a hug; Kokichi always thought she smelled really good, like flowers and sun cream.

“Happy birthday, kiddo,” she said, holding out the box, “Sorry I wasn’t at breakfast. I wanted to make sure your present was perfect.”

Kokichi eagerly took the box, bringing his knee up to support it as he ripped the paper it was wrapped in. Once the contents underneath were revealed, the boy made a noise of intrigue as he lifted it up to the sun.

“A camera?” He asked.

“Yeah! You always ask to see mine, so I figured I’d get you one of your own,” she explained, bending down and gently taking the box from him to open it. Kokichi stood and peered over her shoulder, the summer sun beating down on his neck. He stuck Monomi’s remote control in his pocket for safekeeping.

“This camera’s called a Polaroid. It’s even  _ cooler  _ than my camera, because this one prints almost immediately after you take a picture!” 

“Huh? Really?” Kokichi inspected the camera as she pulled it out. It was a pastel purple; he loved it already.

“Yeah! Here...” Mahiru took a moment to put in the correct batteries and film before holding up the viewer to her eye.

“Smile!” She chuckled as Kokichi grinned wide and folded his hands at his chest; one of his front teeth were missing. The camera flashed and immediately the film inside began to whir, the shot rolling out of the top. The boy ‘oohed’, coming close to watch. He furrowed his brow.

“Koizumi-san, you lied! There’s no picture at all!”

“That’s because it takes a second to develop the image,” Mahiru said, her voice patient. She had a soft spot for Kokichi ever since he had arrived on the island, crying in fear and clinging to his new parents, wordlessly begging them to keep him safe. She and Hajime would get together to hang out every so often and she loved it when he’d bring along the toddler, because for the longest time, he was so quiet you didn’t even know he was there. All of his anxieties and fears were quelled by the presence of one of his fathers.

Now he wasn’t so quiet, but Mahiru loved him to bits anyway.

Sure enough, right as Kokichi was about to start complaining again, the picture began to appear.

“Woah!” The boy plucked the picture from between her fingers and held his mouth open as he watched a picture of himself slowly develop right onto the film. “Koizumi-san, this is amazing!” He heard his fathers’ voices in the back of his mind, nagging him-- _ what do you say? _

“Thank you!” He quickly spit out before he went too long without saying it. Mahiru laughed, tilting her head a bit, and her hair fell to the side, pulled by gravity.

“Of course, Kokichi.” She reached out to ruffle his already-messy hair. (No amount of nagging by Hajime would get him to properly brush it.) “Happy birthday.”

Mahiru went to leave, but Kokichi grabbed her arm.

“Wait! What am I supposed to take pictures of?”

The woman almost seemed taken-aback by the question; that wasn’t something she had to think about most of the time.

“Whatever you feel like taking pictures of! I like to take pictures of people.” She gripped the lanyard keeping her camera on her waist, dangling it in the air. “Candids especially! That’s when you take a picture of somebody without them really noticing you’re doing it.” She was quick to hold her hands out and add, “But like, not in a creepy way, of course!”

Kokichi nodded, taken aback by the gift. He had gotten a lot of cool gifts this year, but none were quite like this one. He marveled at it in silence and the woman chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Go have fun! I’m gonna see what Ibuki and Mikan are up to.” Mahiru bid him farewell and went off, leaving him alone with his new gadget.

He immediately decided that he wanted to take it  _ everywhere. _

He took it to the beach, to the diner, to the park. He found his dads and took pictures of them. He took pictures of whoever he came across.

And then he ran out of film.

Mahiru couldn’t help but laugh in endearment when the boy came to her (a little over an hour later, no less) and cried for more film.

Who was she to say no to the little boy on his birthday?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to make these fairly shorter. the next chapter might be a lil longer but only bc it'll be an important one


	7. Nagito Komaeda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nagito is woken up in the middle of the night and decides to tell kokichi about a secret all of the remnants had been keeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello so i am TIRED and this is unbeta'd but i wanted to give a warning:
> 
> tw for mentions of illness!
> 
> that is all thank you

Nagito wasn’t entirely sure what time it was when he woke up, but he laid disoriented for a moment before he realized that it had been a sound that stirred him awake.

He turned his head to glance at Kokichi’s side of the room--they had managed to squeeze the three of them into Hajime’s cabin, bringing Nagito’s bed from his and setting it up on the wall parallel for Kokichi to sleep in. It was a tight space, but they somehow made it work; once he was old enough, they would move the boy into Nagito’s old cabin.

The white-haired man had trouble seeing at first because his eyes were blurry, but when he could focus better through the dark, he saw the boy wrapped up in his blankets. His purple hair stuck out from the top of the bundle, resting against his pillow, but the thing that gave him away was how his back rose and fell irregularly.

“Kokichi?” Nagito called out, sitting up.

The child flinched, looking over his shoulder; his eyes were red and his cheeks were swollen and wet. He tried to breathe in, but it was terribly shaky and loud. Nagito felt his heart fall as he immediately got up, feet cold on the hardwood as he went over. Kokichi sniffled, trying to haphazardly wipe his face on his pajama sleeve, but all it did was irritate his cheeks even further.

“Kokichi, what’s wrong?” Nagito sat on the edge of the bed, reaching next to him to tuck the boy’s hair behind his ear. The child tried to calm himself, but his lip quivered.

“‘M just sad,” he said, voice wavering.

“Why are you sad?” His Papa’s voice was calm and soft, his metal hand stroking Kokichi’s hair. “Did you not have a good birthday...?” Nagito almost sounded sad himself and Kokichi made himself roll over so he could face him. 

“N-No, I did...” Kokichi replied, wiping at his cheeks again. Nagito got up for a moment to grab a box of tissues that sat nearby, drying the child’s cheeks for him so gently that it began to soothe the boy. “I did. I promise I did, Papa.”

“Is there a reason you’re sad, then?” The man asked, “Or are you just sad? That can happen sometimes.”

“No...” Kokichi sputtered out, but his voice stopped short. He tried to get the words to come out as Nagito looked at him patiently, head cocked, and the child crawled over to lay half in his lap.

“Hmm?” Nagito said, placing one hand on the boy’s back and lacing the other one through his hair. He wasn’t going to press any further if Kokichi truly didn’t want to tell him, but he desperately wanted to help him feel better.

Kokichi laid with his head in his father’s lap for a while, sniffling and hiccuping while Nagito would occasionally dry his tears. The boy felt terrible; it was obviously the middle of the night and his Papa had been asleep, but he had been too loud and woke him up. The man’s eyelids fluttered a bit as he sat there; he had to be exhausted. For his sake, Kokichi found his words.

“I had a nightmare.”   


“Oh! A nightmare, I see.” Nagito never stopped petting his hair, looking him over with dull green eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Kokichi nodded, sitting up a little, and Nagito gave him the space. “I c-couldn’t find you or Daddy. I was scared and alone and...” He caught his breath, leaning against his father’s shoulder, who listened quietly and waited for him to continue. “I was in... a scary, empty building, and it was old and there were plants?” He held his hands out in front of him, showing he was equally as confused as Nagito probably was. “There were plants everywhere and a lot of the lights didn’t work and I was alone. I wasn’t here.”

The two sat in silence (save for the occasional sniffle from Kokichi) until Nagito realized the child was done speaking.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream,” he cooed, scooping the boy up so he could hold him in his lap, “None of that is real. You’re here right now; I’ve got you, don’t I?”

Kokichi nodded, grabbing a fistful of his father’s shirt. “Yes.”

“See? You’re not alone.” Nagito pressed a soft kiss to the apple of the boy’s swollen cheek. “It was just a nightmare, little one; don’t be scared anymore.”

Nagito pet the boy’s back, letting out a sigh of fatigue as he rested his head against the child’s. Kokichi finally began to relax a little, cheek squished against his father’s shoulder.

“I wish Daddy was here,” he said, muffled.

Nagito hummed, looking across the room at their bed; it was true that he’d been sleeping alone that night, but with reason--it was only for a night.

“Daddy’s here, he’s just someplace else on the island,” Nagito explained again--as he had multiple times before--and tucked hair behind Kokichi’s ear. “You know he has to sleep at the ruins every once and a while so the Future Foundation can watch him.”

“Why do they have to watch him sleep?” The boy toyed with the pink strands on the nape of Nagito’s neck; it was a nervous habit of his. “His hugs make me feel better, too...”

“Well, they’re not really watching  _ him;  _ they’ve got a bunch of wires and things hooked up to his head while he sleeps so they can watch his  _ brain.”  _ Nagito made his voice a tad dramatic in the hopes that he could coax a laugh out of the boy; his ultimate luck was in his favor tonight.

“Ewwww, his brain?” Kokichi giggled, scrunching his nose at his dad. “Why his brain?”

“They’re just keeping an eye on him and making sure he’s okay. That’s all. It’s no different than when I have to go there for a while, you know?” Except it actually  _ was  _ quite different, but both Nagito and Hajime agreed that they wouldn’t tell Kokichi about Nagito’s chemotherapy until they absolutely had to. For the time being, Nagito was content with lying right to his face, especially when their son was innocent enough to buy it.

Kokichi nodded again, but he still seemed out of it, big purple eyes staring into space.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

“I know you’re here--and I know Daddy’s only away--but I still feel alone.”

Nagito hummed in thought, scooping the boy up and standing with him in his arms. Kokichi seemed confused, yet he wrapped his arms around his father’s neck anyway. His Papa’s white hair was nearly as messy as his was, sticking out in every direction; Kokichi found it funny when his Daddy told Kokichi to brush his hair, because why didn’t Papa have to? Carefully, Nagito set the boy down, walking over to the door. 

“Slide your shoes on,” he explained, putting on his own, “we’re gonna go for a walk. I want to show you something.”

Intrigued, Kokichi did as he was told, and Nagito slipped a jacket over the boy’s shoulders and grabbed his own. He held out his hand for the child to take and took him outside to the dock, locking the cabin door behind him.

“Papa, where are we going?” Kokichi asked, still holding his hand as they exited the ground gates and began to walk down the dirt trail.

“You’ll see,” was the only context Nagito gave him.

The night air was a bit chilly, but one nice thing about Jabberwock was that its nights were fairly bearable; Nagito had been too nervous to leave the child without some sort of second layer, though, because with his luck Kokichi would have caught a cold and he would never hear the end of it from his husband.

Kokichi never let go of his hand, commenting on the animals that they could hear as they walked. (He heard a few insects, too, and hid behind his father when one sounded fairly close; he didn’t really care for them.)

Finally, they reached the beach, the open area windy enough to tousle their hair. A small smile was on Nagito’s face as he looked out to sea, the small child confused as he clung to his dad’s flannel pants.

“Papa, why are we at the ocean?” Kokichi asked, and Nagito tugged him closer to the water until they were nearly there. He knelt down, putting an arm around the boy’s waist and pulling him close; he pointed out at the horizon, wind whipping his hair out of his face.

“Kokichi, look straight ahead,” he said, and the child did so, mouth hung open and eyes big in curiosity. The sky was a deep blue and was full of stars, the Milky Way spilt across the giant canvas. Kokichi always thought the night sky was beautiful.

“Across the water, so far away that you can’t see them, are other islands. There are things called continents.” Nagito’s breathy voice was excited yet calm at the same time somehow; it was nothing unlike him, Kokichi thought.

“Continents?” Kokichi blinked, still staring at the horizon.

“They’re big pieces of land. On these other islands and these continents are billions of other people. There’s a huge world beyond the ocean for you to see--there are so many other people and animals and places to go and things to do; you are never truly alone, even if you feel like it, because billions of other people are awake and thinking the same things you are. There are children just like you--the world isn’t made of only adults like the island may seem. You’ll be able to make so many friends.”

Kokichi held his breath as he tried his hardest to see the places his father talked about through the water, but no matter how hard he hurt his eyes, they wouldn’t appear. The boy was too amazed to respond, and Nagito’s arm squeezed him tighter, his voice shaky.

“We want you to see it so bad,” he said, swallowing hard and smiling in thought, “the world is truly beautiful; it can be scary sometimes--very, very scary, especially for a child--but you’ll love it.”

Kokichi leant his weight against his father’s frail figure, watching the waves on the water, completely mesmerized. He and Nagito stood there for a moment, taking in everything that was said, and Kokichi grabbed his hand.

“I want to see it, Papa,” Kokichi said, his father looking strangely broken despite all of the hopeful things he had been talking about. Nagito gave him a small smile.

“We’re trying, I promise,” his voice was quiet, “That’s partly why Daddy has to be watched by the Future Foundation sometimes. It helps us work towards it. But--” His gangly hand held onto Kokichi’s and squeezed it tight; it should have hurt the boy, but the pressure was comforting and made the child realize that he wasn’t kidding about what he was saying.

“If things keep going well, you’ll get to see the world in just a few years.”

This nearly knocked the wind out of Kokichi in shock; he had known Jabberwock his entire life. The idea of there being much, much more--and that he’d get to figure out what that was in a short time--was incredible. It didn’t seem real, but the look on his Papa’s face told him that it was. It was 100% real. And Kokichi would get to go there.

“I want to see it,” Kokichi repeated, his brain refusing to work.

“You will, Kokichi, I promise,” Nagito smiled again, bright this time, and it almost seemed as if he had never been doubtful. “You will, one way or another.”

Suddenly full of excitement, Kokichi broke free from his father’s grasp and ran towards the ocean with a laugh. Nagito followed behind, deciding to take off his shoes when Kokichi kicked his off, and they both walked towards the water until they were close enough for the tide to lick their toes.

Kokichi walked forwards a bit so he could stand in the water; the bottoms of his pant legs grew soaked almost immediately.

“Well, I guess we could always change your clothes before you go back to bed,” Nagito laughed, standing at the water’s edge while the boy felt the sand beneath his feet.

“Papa, if I walked into the water and just kept going, would I get there?”

Nagito reached out to grasp onto Kokichi’s hand just in case, chuckling nervously. “Yes, but don’t do that.”

The man let the child wade around ankle-deep for a bit longer before the boy’s movements began to slow, watching as Kokichi rubbed at his eyes.

“Are you tired?” Nagito asked.

“Yeah.”

Carefully, the man picked the boy up under the arms, letting him rinse his feet of sand in the water before he carried him over his shoulder back to his shoes; he set him down on top of them so the sand didn’t stick. He opted to do the opposite, sliding his shoes on and walking back to the water for a moment to rinse the sand off before scooping Kokichi back up and carrying him the whole way back home.

Once they were in their cabin, Kokichi changed his pants so the bottoms weren’t wet anymore. He yawned and Nagito nudged his upper back.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Kokichi shuffled forward a few steps, coaxed by his father, but he stopped and turned, rubbing his eyes.

“Papa, can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Nagito smiled gently; the feeling of being wanted was wonderful, but being  _ needed  _ was something much different, and he was thankful for it any time the child was around.

So of course the answer was yes, and Kokichi curled up in the spot that his Daddy usually slept in, stuffed Monomi tight in his arms as Nagito wished him good night. 

With his Papa next to him, the smell of his Daddy’s cologne on the pillow he laid on, and the knowledge that he’d one day get to meet children his age, Kokichi had no trouble falling asleep and staying asleep until breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "you would be a good stay at home dad"  
-mahiru koizumi
> 
> i wholeheartedly agree nagito just has a way of being really good with kids. kokichi is no exception even if some of the stuff he says doesn't make sense; kokichi'll just be like "well my dad said it so it must be true". 
> 
> hajime has to work with the future foundation a lot of the time during the day too so do you know who watches?? the boy?
> 
> nagito fuckin komaeda that's who


	8. Kazuichi Soda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kokichi helps kazuichi salvage some parts, but hajime needs to talk to him about something important.

Kokichi wished his body was made of elastic so that he could stretch just a  _ little  _ bit further; his arm hurt and his fingertips could graze the cold metal box, but it wasn’t enough.

“You get it?” Kazuichi asked; he was holding Kokichi by the legs, hoisting him up to try and give him the extra bit of height they needed. Electric Avenue was a mess--machinery and technology was strewn across the street and the shelves inside of the empty storefronts, but it was heaven to the mechanic. Kokichi wasn’t allowed to go there unless it was with his Uncle Kaz or his fathers.

“No, I can barely touch it--” Kokichi explained, looking down. “Is there anything down there I can use to nudge it off of the shelf?”

“Umm,” Kazuichi hummed, but he bent his knees to set the boy back on the ground for the time being. “There’s gotta be something here,” he mused, carefully stepping in between sharp, half-broken pieces of scrap metal. Kokichi went to follow, but Kazuichi held up a hand, shaking his head. Kokichi was impressed; he hadn’t even made any noise--and his uncle hadn’t been looking at him--but he knew exactly what he was going to do. He supposed that was what happened when you babysat someone all the time ever since they were incredibly little.

“Stay there, I’ve got it. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Kazuichi wasn’t normally that serious--in fact, he was quite the jokester like Kokichi was--but he was protective of the boy. Kokichi toyed with his hair as he watched the mechanic sort through piles of garbage so old that the dust on them was black. Finally making a noise of intrigue, he pulled out a half-snapped piece of galvanized pipe. Putting his foot up against a box, Kazuichi bent the pipe over his knee until it snapped completely, the break unclean and jagged as he tossed the smaller piece over his shoulder with a clank. He made his way back over to the boy.

“Be  _ extra  _ careful, Kichi; the edge is as sharp as a knife,” Kazuichi explained, running his own index finger along the break to prove a point. Kokichi nodded, taking the pipe, and bracing himself to be picked up again. Kazuichi bent down and wrapped strong arms around the boy’s knees, letting out a grunt as he stood up again, careful not to let the child wobble from unbalance.

Kokichi stretched his arm as far as he could, catching the end of the pipe on the side of the metal box, nudging against it carefully. The box turned on the shelf, metal against metal grating against his ears, but he was determined; he pushed against the box a bit more until it was nearly half off of the shelf. Kokichi looked down again, offering the pipe to the pink-haired man. Kazuichi hummed, tightening one of his arms around Kokichi’s knees as he unwound the other to take the pipe, haphazardly tossing it to the side. He grabbed both legs again just as Kokichi was able to reach the box, holding it with both hands. A grin spread across the boy’s face.

“Got it!” He cried out, his uncle setting him down and giving him a strong high five, smiling wide with his sharp teeth.

“Hell yeah, little buddy! Look at you go!”

Kokichi laughed, tucking stray purple hair behind his ear as Kazuichi gestured for him to follow, balancing the box on his hip as they carefully moved through the scraps. When they came to Electric Avenue to sort through the junk and pick out the things Kazuichi could use to build with, they brought along one of Kokichi’s old wagons he used to pull around. It had typically been reserved for his stuffed animals, but as he grew older he began to tote them around less and less. He still brought Monomi with him sometimes--and he’d never tell his fathers--but he was beginning to grow embarrassed of her. She sat at the top of his bed most of the time anymore.

“Do you think we have enough stuff?” Kokichi asked, wiping his hands of grease on his pants. Kazuichi fixed his hat, glancing down at the supplies they’d gathered.

“I think so,” Kazuichi said, “and if not, I can always come back later. ‘Cause you gotta be home pretty soon, right?”

Kokichi groaned, rolling his eyes. “Yes.”

“Hey, why that reaction?” The pink haired man laughed, beginning to tug the wagon along. The short boy followed, kicking rocks as he saw them.

“I have to study for a test tomorrow.” Kokichi puffed out his cheeks, pulling lightly at his hair (a tic he possibly had picked up from Mikan but didn’t realize). “I don’t understand why Dad can’t just give me an A; he’s the one that’s teaching me, anyway...”

“That’s not how homeschooling works, little dude,” Kazuichi chuckled softly, glancing over with his bright pink eyes, “If he just let you take the easy way out, how are you ever actually gonna learn anything?”

“But I’m smart!” Kokichi’s fists were at his chest. “I know how to count and read and write; Dad says I’m reading at a twelfth grade level and I’m only in fourth!”

“That’s because Nagito has been reading to you the second he had the chance. I’ve never seen somebody burn through as many thousand-page novels in a week as he does--”

“--I can do that too!”

Kazuichi cleared his throat, rolling his eyes; something told him even  _ without  _ the pouty tone it was delivered with that the child was lying.

“Okay, so you can read pretty good. Can you tell me what the quadratic formula is? Or the first fifteen digits of pi?”

Kokichi slowed down a bit, twirling a strand of hair around his finger as he let his uncle go ahead of him. “Um...”

The mechanic didn’t let up. “Hey, do you know the Pythagorean theorem? Or the square root of negative one--”

“--N-No.” Kokichi cut him off, not wanting to be lectured to anymore.

“See? Then you have plenty more stuff you need to learn. You should be thankful that your dads want to teach you all this stuff, that way once we’re back to the mainland you won’t be behind the other kids.”

Kokichi just nodded; sometimes Kazuichi sounded like his dads. The mechanic was probably the one he was closest to aside from his parents; he viewed his uncle as someone cool he could confide in when his Dad and Papa were getting on his nerves. That was why whenever Kazuichi went into lecture mode, Kokichi was desperate to get him to stop as soon as he possibly could.

They talked back and forth about a bunch of different things as they approached the bridge. Kokichi took the time when Kazuichi was rambling on about something that had happened between him and Sonia to look around and take in the fifth island. He was  _ never  _ allowed here; only recently was he permitted to come to Electric Avenue with his Uncle Kaz. Kokichi always thought it was really stupid for his fathers to be so insistent and strict on making sure he never went there. It in itself seemed incredibly industrial, which had Kazuichi’s name written all over it, but other than the fact that there was a military base the boy wasn’t sure why he wasn’t allowed there. It wasn’t like he was going to go milling around for bombs or poke his nose someplace he wasn’t supposed to.

(Okay, so, maybe he wouldn’t have looked for bombs, but he definitely would have poked his nose someplace he wasn’t supposed to. He just wouldn’t tell them that.)

In a way, Kokichi felt like they were trying to keep a secret from him, which only drove him to further want to investigate; however, it never stuck around in his mind for very long, because he was very easily distracted by other things.

His legs were somewhat sore by the time they got back to the first island, so he was relieved when they’d gotten back to the hotel. His Dad had been talking with Mahiru on the docks when they’d come through the gates, metal scraps in tow.

Hajime lit up at the sight of the two, walking to meet them after excusing himself from the photographer. “God, you two are filthy,” he laughed, licking his thumb and rubbing a spot on Kokichi’s cheek. 

“Ewww...” Kokichi scrunched his nose, trying to lean away, but Hajime held his shoulder and rubbed at the spot until it was gone. 

Hajime crossed his arms over his chest, but he wasn’t tense; a soft smile was on his face. “Kichi, your Papa is at the restaurant right now helping Hanamura-san prepare dinner. Can you go help them?” Quickly, he added, “Make sure you wash up first.”

Kokichi nodded, turning to Kazuichi, who was equally as filthy. “I had fun today, Uncle Kaz! Thanks for taking me with you!” The short boy threw his arms around the man, who laughed and hugged back.

“Of course, little dude! You know I love when you help me out.”

The two adults watched as the child began to go to the main building, waving and greeting anyone he happened to pass on the way.

“He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” Hajime asked once the child was out of earshot. Kazuichi blew a raspberry.

“Man, you know he never does! I’m not sure why you always ask that.” Kazuichi put his hands behind his head. “He’s a good kid. You guys are really raising him right.”

This made Hajime smile as he watched the boy pull the heavy doors of the lobby open, but something seemed to be off. Kazuichi furrowed his brow, tilting his head.

“You okay, man?”

“Kazuichi, could I talk to you about something?” The brunet man suddenly said, voice serious and low. The mechanic blinked.

“Oh, of--of course. What’s up?”

Hajime looked over at the cabins. “Um. Could we talk in private, if that’s okay?”

Kazuichi followed his friend into the cottage he shared with Nagito and Kokichi; despite the tight living quarters, it was kept quite clean. The mechanic supposed that was Nagito’s doing since he was a bit of a neat freak.

The second Hajime shut the door, Kazuichi blurted out, “Is everything okay? Nothing’s bothering my soul brother, right? Are you and Nagito doing okay...?”

“No, no, everything is fine,” Hajime shook his head, holding out his hands in reassurance, “Nagito and I are fine, too. I just have a request, more or less.”

“Oh.” Kazuichi visibly relaxed, crossing his arms across his chest and grinning. “Whatcha got for me, then?”

“Do you remember how... in the Game--” Hajime stopped for a moment, not having wanted to bring it up but knowing it was necessary; Kazuichi also visibly tensed but said nothing. “You were able to connect the two monitors to transmit back and forth between the hospital and the music venue?”

Kazuchi nodded.

“Do you know how to jam television signals?”

This entire situation was strange; Kazuichi shifted the way he was carrying his weight, pulling at the front of his beanie. “I mean... yeah, I’m sure I could figure something out. Why? What do you need me to jam?”

Hajime swallowed, averting his gaze. He stood at the door, which made it seem like he was trapping Kazuichi, but in reality he just wanted to be hyper-aware of anybody who might come up to the other side.

“They’re airing Danganronpa here for some reason, like--like they thought that was a good idea.”

Kazuichi wasn’t sure what to say at first. “Are they really?” His typically loud voice was incredibly small.

“Yes, like we all needed reminders...” Hajime ground the heel of his palm into his forehead. “Digging up old trauma and whatnot. But it’s not really us I’m worried about; I don’t want Kokichi to see it. I don’t want him to even know it  _ exists;  _ that everybody he’s ever fucking  _ met  _ had been a part of some sick game just so execs could make heaps of money.”

Of course. It all made sense. When they had been in Danganronpa, the Most Tragic Event had been a very real thing; the first three killing games had been very, very real, yet they were recorded--as the world began to put itself back together, they watched reruns and became entranced in the concept. Soon enough, more controlled killing games were going on under the watch of Team Danganronpa, and it became a craze to watch and try to join. The Remnants of Despair were healing and getting better, but Junko Enoshima’s twisted mantras still found a way to sprout from the concrete yet again. Four seasons per year, one killing game per season. It was sick and it was twisted and it made Hajime absolutely  _ furious _ \--like everything they’d ever been through was just a joke to the entire world--but it was a sad truth that there would always be a hunger for despair. He supposed since they couldn’t exactly stop it, controlled despair was best, but it was still disgusting.

And he didn’t want Kokichi to have any clue it existed. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

(Nagito had cried--which he  _ never  _ did--on Hajime’s shoulder in fear when he’d learned that Jabberwock had access; he was petrified that Kokichi would stumble upon reruns and see his Papa’s mutilated, bloodied body and never be able to unsee it.)

“I can try, of-fucking-course I can.” Kazuichi was serious too, almost baffled that Hajime would ask him to jam the signal rather than just outright tell him to. “Does the Future Foundation know this is a thing?”

“I’m not sure. I’m set to video call Naegi in a few days; I’ll bring it up to him then, but in the meantime, I don’t want the risk of Kokichi seeing it-- _ anyone  _ seeing it, for that matter.” Hajime sighed, rubbing his cheek. “That would be enough to discourage anybody, and we’re all doing so good. Naegi says that if we keep it up, we’ll be allowed to leave in five years.”

_ “Only five years?”  _ Kazuichi seemed shocked and pleasantly surprised, eyes lit up. “Holy shit, man, that’s amazing!”

Hajime nodded, chuckling as a smile swept across his face. “I know. That’s why I’m scared of any inhibitors.”

Kazuichi gave the brunet a thumbs up, grinning wide with his sharp teeth and staring intently into mismatched eyes. “You got it! I’ll set my current project aside and get right to work. Give me...” He glanced at the clock. “...until eight, and it should be in place. Kokichi should be occupied until then, right? He said he had to study or something.”

Hajime nodded. “Yeah, that should be fine.” He let out a sigh of relief, clapping a hand on the mechanic’s shoulder; the jumpsuit was grimy against his palm, but he didn’t really mind. “Thanks, Kazuichi, you’re really the best.”

“Hey, it’s no problem!” Kazuichi was able to move towards the door and have Hajime step to the side, opening it up and feeling the breeze move through the frame. “Do you think someone could bring me dinner, then?”

“Of course; I’ll have Nagito do it, if that’s okay.”

If this conversation had been had about a decade prior, Kazuichi would’ve made a comment about the white-haired man poisoning his food, but they were all far more mature; instead of a snide remark, Kazuichi agreed and left, Hajime resting his head against the door once he’d shut it and closed his eyes in overwhelm.

God, that would be a disaster if Kokichi found anything out.

The Ultimate Hope glanced over at the boy’s bed, which was neatly made with Monomi perched nicely at the top of his pillows. Shirokuma and Kurokuma no longer had that privilege and were packed away, but something about Monomi made Kokichi want to cling to her just a little bit longer. Her stitches were beginning to come apart, but no matter how much Hajime insisted he would fix it, Kokichi wouldn’t let him. It was almost as if her wear and tear proved her age to the child, making her delicate and all the more special.

Hajime sighed, looking at the rabbit, finding himself wishing he could talk to the AI again. “Monomi, what are we going to do?”

Monomi just stared straight ahead, stitched smile unwavering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kind of downbeat, i'm sorry :') now have begun the angsty times... not saying that fluffy chapters aren't about to happen! just that the angst is now here and is going to happen a bit more often.
> 
> also!! i hc that the killing games all the way through the events of danganronpa 3 (the anime) were v v real, and the games following were copycat games created solely for television seasons (like in v3). how they don't get in serious legal trouble by having people sign their lives away and actually kill each other on the air is beyond me! shhh, we don't question it lol
> 
> (also i haven't finished the 3 anime yet so please no spoilers if something happens to be inconsistent here)


	9. Akane Owari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akane and kokichi wrestle and then leave to go get food
> 
> tw: teeth!! that is all thank u

Kokichi let out a whoop, squirming against the gymnast’s grip. She had him pinned to the ground, half straddling him and using her forearm to hold his shoulder against the concrete. The boy was laughing so hard that his face was a deep red, struggling to break free.

“Come on! Cut me some slack!” Kokichi wriggled, trying to break free, but no dice; Akane just brought her forearm down harder on his shoulder.

“Hell nah, kid! Not ‘til you call uncle!” She was grinning wildly, laughing alongside the boy.

Whenever Akane and Kokichi hung out, she insisted on “training” him; typically, that just meant that they wrestled until the boy couldn’t anymore. It made his Dad and Papa fairly nervous--it was no secret that Akane was intense when it came to her workouts--but she promised she wouldn’t put him in harm’s way.

Kokichi struggled and tried to push her off and twist her arm, but no matter how hard he tried, she was too strong. Letting out a groan of defeat, he smacked his palm on the ground.

“Uncle,” he called; Akane let out a roar of victory and stood up, pumping her fists.

“Hell yeah! I win again!”

“How fun is it to constantly play games that you know you’re gonna win?” Kokichi rolled so he could lay flat on the ground, limbs sprawled out in the sun. “Isn’t it way more fun when you’re matched in skill?”

Akane nudged a finger in her ear, sticking out her tongue. “Psh, yeah, sure; that’s why I train with Nekomaru a lot. But I like training with you because no matter how high the odds are stacked against you, you still try!”

Kokichi sat up. He supposed she had a point. Big purple eyes flicked around, deep in thought.

The gymnast put her hands on her hips, smiling. “You’re a cool kid, Kokichi. You wanna go get food?”

“Yeah!” The boy was always down for food; he pulled himself to his feet. “Can we go to the diner?”

“Hell yes we can! I was hoping you’d say that!” Akane was already walking away, assuming that Kokichi was going to follow. She began to ramble on about the things she was hungry for--burgers, fries, things of the like--and he began to follow, but a mischievous thought crept its way into his head; anymore, when those appeared, he very seldom ignored them. So he wasn’t going to.

A wicked grin spreading across his face, he was light on his feet as he charged at the gymnast’s back, leaping and tackling her. Of course, he was small for his age and she was strong to begin with, so she didn’t topple, but it was enough to catch her by surprise. Kokichi giggled madly as he shifted his weight forward so he could catch her neck with the inside of his elbow. Akane let out a howl of laughter as she tried to reach behind her to grab the boy, but he had positioned himself in such a way that it was impossible to get a hold on him. Kokichi tightened his arm around her neck--not enough to hurt her, of course--and laughed.

“I win!” Kokichi declared, unaware that Akane had a trick up her sleeve.

“Don’t be so  _ sure!”  _ She whooped, snapping her body forward at the hips, throwing Kokichi’s weight over her shoulder like he was feather-light. The boy froze in surprise, eyes blown wide as he was tossed upside down, but right when he thought he was going to hit the ground a pair of hands grabbed hold of his waist. Kokichi found himself suspended a foot from the ground, held in place by Akane, who snickered, impressed.

“Thought you could blindside me, huh?” She teased, her snaggletooth catching on her lower lip as she grinned. “I gotta say, that was a good try. Worth a shot! You almost had me.”

The gymnast continued walking, dangling the boy upside down still. The child felt the blood rushing to his head, his wild purple hair pulled towards the ground from gravity. He wriggled again to try and break free from her grip, but she was still too strong.

“ _ Ohhhh  _ no, you’re not gettin’ off the hook that easily!” Akane laughed, still keeping him in place as she carried him. “You made this bed of worms, now lie in it! Or... somethin’ like that...”

It wasn’t fair! Kokichi huffed, crossing his arms as he began to feel dizzy (but it was nothing he couldn’t handle). Akane kept rambling, but the blood in his ears was growing louder and his head was getting lighter. She kept walking and the way his body was swinging was beginning to make him sick. Desperate to free himself, he squirmed quickly enough to break free of her grasp, slamming his face right on the dirt path as he fell. Akane let out a yell of surprise as she bent down, unable to hold back laughter.

“Damn, kid! You hit the ground  _ hard;  _ sorry for laughin’, but it was kind of funny.” Akane put a hand on the boy’s back, leaning down to try and see him face-to-face. “You okay?”

Kokichi tasted copper in his mouth, and when he swished his tongue, he felt something small and hard against his cheek. Unsure, he spit on the ground in front of it, and along with a bit of blood came a molar.

“Oh fuck--” Akane clapped a hand over her mouth, “Shit, sorry--fuck--wait.” She exhaled, holding her hands in front of her as she recollected her thoughts. “Okay. That’s not good. Do you still have baby teeth?”

Kokichi sat up, licking at the spot the tooth had been in. It tasted metallic and it was gummy, but he wasn’t bleeding too bad. He nodded, picking up the tooth.

“Yeah. I only have a few more to lose. This was one of them; I didn’t even realize it was loose?” Unfortunately, Kokichi had learned a year earlier that the tooth fairy was actually Nagito when he’d accidentally been woken up as his father was trying to stuff money underneath his pillow. (It had taken days for Nagito to stop beating himself up for it.) He could still bring the tooth to either of his parents and they’d give him money anyway, so that was cool.

“Damn. I’m sorry, that’s kind of my fault...” Akane rubbed the back of her neck, standing up and offering Kokichi her hand. He took it, keeping the tooth in between his index and thumb of his other hand. The boy shrugged.

“It’s okay. It only hurts a little.” He grinned, holding up the tooth. “Plus, now I get twenty bucks!”

“Woah,  _ twenty bucks?”  _ Akane began to walk again, Kokichi in tow. “I knew you were spoiled, but my God!” She grinned, nudging the boy in the side with an elbow.

“I’m not spoiled!” Kokichi puffed his cheeks out, but then again, he had no idea what ‘spoiled’ really meant. He was the only child he knew of (even though he’d been told about a ragtag band of kids that his Papa used to take care of); as far as he was concerned, he was just a normal kid.

The other Remnants teased Hajime and Nagito over how great Kokichi had it, but they also realized that they contributed just as much.

They had passed a water fountain that Kokichi could swish his mouth out with. By the time they made it to the diner, they had found Fuyuhiko, Kazuichi, and Gundham there, and the group of them all had lunch together.

(And afterwards, Kokichi, Akane, and Kazuichi all went to search for Hajime to beg him for twenty dollars a piece.)

(Only Kokichi got twenty dollars.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've struggled with akane like i did gundham; i've decided to keep on going!
> 
> i've got a handful of people left; i still have to do my komahina secret exchange piece though and keep sewing scrunchies to sell for the holiday season. i'm trying to update this as often as possible!


	10. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the ultimate yakuza would probably have tattoos.
> 
> tw for illness mentions, but it ends happy i swear!!

Kokichi wasn’t really listening to the adults around him; they’d all gathered in the hospital lobby and were waiting patiently for a result. His Papa had been insistent that he could just bring the news back to the restaurant after they’d found out, but for some reason, nobody wanted to wait that long. The purple haired boy groggily rested his head on Fuyuhiko’s shoulder, who had worn nothing but a ribbed tank top from the heat. The gangster had always been insistent that he didn’t have a as soft a spot for the boy that the others had, but yet Kokichi was able to get away with things that nobody else could.

Hence why he also had Fuyuhiko’s arm in his lap and was currently coloring in the tattoo sleeve that ran from his shoulder all the way down to his forearm.

The yakuza used to hide the fact that he had tattoos, but over the course of the decade-plus he’d lived with the others, he was much less shy about them. (After all, tattoos were associated with the yakuza, which was what he prided himself in.)

Fuyuhiko sat still as Kokichi tiredly honed in on a particularly intricate spot within dragons’ scales, switching out several colors. He seemed to have almost forgotten the boy was there, talking with the others.

“Man, if we didn’t know any better, you’d think someone was having a baby!” Akane laughed, muscled leg crossed over her other. She jiggled her leg that was on the ground; she always had difficulty sitting still.

“That’s no shit,” Fuyuhiko agreed, and Peko silently nodded next to him.

“Nobody here is pregnant--right?” Ibuki interjected, pointing an accusatory finger and swiping it across the room, leaning forward in her seat. She squinted as everyone else looked around confusedly, shaking their heads. The musician sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back, closing her eyes in satisfaction. “Good! Ibuki thinks it would be hard to be an aunt to more than one kid.”

“I think we’d all be able to handle  _ one  _ more child running around,” Mahiru chuckled with a smirk, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t know, I think it would be kind of fun to celebrate the process,” Kazuichi shrugged; his jumpsuit was tied around his waist and he wore a tank top as well. Long pink hair was tied back at the nape of his neck. “Like, back at home, I remember going to a baby shower when I was really little. It seemed like it would’ve been a cool thing for the family and stuff.”

Hiyoko let out a small laugh. “Oh yeah, that’s right; the only kid we got to prepare for was that one over there, but it wasn’t the same sort of thing.” She scrunched her nose playfully, aiming her words in Kokichi’s direction. “The little snotnose was already born when Hajime and Nagito got him.  _ Laaaaame!” _

The room paused to look at the child to gauge a reaction, but the boy completely ignored her, uncapping a blue sharpie with his teeth.

“I... don’t think he heard you,” Mahiru said.

“That’s ‘cause he’s  _ focused,”  _ Kazuichi grinned, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the boy. “What’s he doing?”

“Coloring my sleeve.” Fuyuhiko tried to sound as matter-of-factly and uninterested as he could, casting a glance to the purple head of hair on his shoulder. “He always said he wanted to, so I figured that would keep him occupied while we wait since we have no idea how long this is going to take.”

“Oh. That’s cool.” Kazuichi tilted his head, leaning closer to the sleeve to see. This got Kokichi’s attention, lifting his head and moving back a bit.

“Huh?” The boy hummed.

“Fuyuhiko’s sleeve is of a dragon, right?” Sonia smiled, clasping her hands together. “It seems like you are coloring in each individual scale!”

“I am,” Kokichi nodded, going back and uncapping an indigo. “I’m trying to follow a color scheme, but I’m not sure how it’s going to work...”

Ryota smiled, squeezing his fists in his lap out of an anxious habit. “A-Ahaha, maybe y-you’re on track to becoming the Ultimate Artist, then--”

He was promptly cut off and shushed by the others, making the animator shrink in on himself and the boy lift his head in confusion. Kokichi glanced around at the others for a possible explanation in their expressions--he had only partially caught what was said, but he didn’t understand what it meant--and upon receiving no answer went back to filling in the scales.

“It shouldn’t take much longer, right?” Twogami was swift in the topic change and the others were grateful. Akane hummed in thought.

“They probably have a couple of things to check for, not just one spot...” She shrugged, finger in her ear. “I don’t really mind waitin’. I wasn’t gonna do anything today anyway but train.”

“We were going to see how far out into the ocean we can swim before becoming exhausted!” Nekomaru yelled out with fervor and nearly made Mahiru choke from the ridiculousness.

“I thought we all discovered through  _ trial  _ and error that swimming that deep into the ocean isn’t a plausible thing to do,” Peko’s soft voice carried across the room to the team manager, who brushed her off.

“Plus you’ll fucking drown?” Mahiru added.

Kokichi tuned out the sound of Nekomaru trying to convince several people that he and Akane were tough enough to swim against possible riptides. Fuyuhiko was careful to keep his arm still as to not mess the boy up. He’d been coloring the tattoo in for almost two hours; they had all went to the hospital early in the morning, waking the boy up earlier than he was used to. The time of day didn’t matter--this could have been done at any point, but everyone agreed it was exciting to find out the news as quick as possible so they could celebrate later in the evening if the news was good.

Out of the entire group, Fuyuhiko was one of the ones Kokichi seldom hung out with. There was no particular reason; none of them were mean to or disliked the little boy. Fuyuhiko tended to be fairly independent (save for Peko) and truthfully intimidated Kokichi a bit, so he tried to bother the ones he knew for sure wouldn’t mind his company like Kazuichi or Ibuki. Of course, the gangster wouldn’t have minded if Kokichi wanted to stick around him for a while, but he wasn’t exactly the best at speaking what he was thinking.

(He  _ did  _ think, though, that his dragon was looking pretty fucking cool with the blue/purple palette Kokichi was going for.)

The boy was nearly falling asleep on the warm shoulder; he had to sit on the far side of his seat in order to properly rest his head there, though, since Fuyuhiko was incredibly short. Kokichi was expected to pass him in height within the next year or two and the yakuza wasn’t pleased about that at all. 

Upon realization that Kokichi was slipping under, his hand falling against his own lap and his grip loosening on his open Sharpie, Fuyuhiko took the marker from him and capped it so it didn’t get on anything else. The dragon wasn’t finished, but it still looked pretty sweet from what Kokichi was able to get done. The boy laid asleep against the yakuza while the latter continued to talk amongst his friends.

It hadn’t been too long after that Mikan gingerly pushed the door open, Hajime next to her. Everyone quieted down, watching the two intently. Nagito followed soon after in his hospital robe, letting the door close behind him as he took his place between the two, a pin able to drop amidst the silence. 

“Well?” Gundham finally spoke, seeing as nobody else was going to.

Choking back tears and smiling, Nagito folded his hands in front of him, bowing his head. His shoulders trembled and Hajime’s arm found its way around his waist.

“I’m officially in remission,” he breathed, and the room erupted into loud, excited chaos.

Kokichi stirred at the noise, lifting his head and rubbing his eyes as everyone trickled from their seats to squeeze the pale man tightly, the latter laughing in gratitude and tears streaming down his cheeks--he was surprised that such amazing people could be so happy for a person like him, but he was pleased nonetheless. The child was confused and opted to stay where he was, allowing Fuyuhiko to take his arm back so he could stand; he didn’t hug Nagito, but he hovered nearby in support, and that was enough.

The color popped on his arm and made Kokichi smile.

He noticed the room’s attention had turned to him and he tugged on his hair habitually.

“Huh?” Kokichi said, confused as to why everyone was grinning at him. His dads had ahold of each other, both crying and wiping at each other’s cheeks.

“Did you hear that?” Sonia asked, teary-eyed herself, “Kokichi, he is in remission.”

“I don’t think he knows what that means,” Teruteru whispered to her as Kokichi asked, ‘what does that mean?’

“It means,” Hajime responded, the group stepping back a bit so Kokichi could see him better, “that your Papa is cancer-free.”

The words made Kokichi’s heart stop. Purple eyes blew wide in shock and he held his breath. The others laughed a bit at his reaction, endeared. “He is?” Kokichi breathed. Hajime nodded and Kokichi felt his eyes grow hot and watery as he brought himself to his feet, unsure of what to do. Nagito put a hand over his mouth as he crouched down, feeling himself about to cry harder as Kokichi ran to him, throwing his arms around his shoulders and sobbing into his neck. The room hummed in conversation as Hajime bent down, too, wrapping his arms around both of his boys and holding them as they cried.

Kokichi had only recently been told that his Papa had been sick for a while, but he knew from reading in the library that cancer was nasty. It had the potential to kill, and when Kokichi had brought that up to his Daddy, he’d insisted that he and Mikan weren’t going to let that happen.

It was a huge weight off of his ten-year-old shoulders to say the least.

Everyone had buzzed in excitement for a bit longer as the family held one another in relief, but Nagito eventually had to change back into normal clothes, no longer having to undergo tests and treatments for the day. 

It had been decided that they would all celebrate in the restaurant that night (no matter how many times Nagito insisted he didn’t deserve it) and they all went to dissipate to prepare. Kokichi was going to stay behind to wait for his parents, but Fuyuhiko had called for him to come over when he was hanging onto his Papa as he talked to the others.

“I’m thinking about going sleeveless tonight,” The gangster grinned, “so do you think you’d be able to stop by an hour or so before so you can finish up my tattoo?”

Of course the answer was yes, and the pop of blue and purple on the yakuza’s arm was a hot topic that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hit a block but went to work today (it was deaaaad) and was able to get some inspiration!
> 
> i'm still working on my exchange piece but i'm officially on winter break so i'm hoping to do a lot with this fic while i'm free!
> 
> i like to think that nagito would grow on everyone after living with him for so long; a lot of them tend to be mean to him in canon and it makes me sad :(


	11. Mikan Tsumiki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mikan helps stitch kokichi up when he hurts himself on a fallen branch.
> 
> tw: blood, wounds, stitches, needles

“Y-Y-You really need to b-be more careful--!” Mikan scolded, fumbling with the needle and thread in her clumsy hands. Kokichi hung his head a bit and averted his gaze, teeth clenched to ward off the hiss of pain that threatened to leave his lips. She shakily pushed the towel back onto the boy’s dirty calf when his hand shifted away. Teary purple eyes flicked up to look into focused ones, the nurse’s typically-anxious gaze entirely serious.

“Y-You need t-t-to keep pressure there,” she instructed, grabbing the scraped hand and pressing it back onto the towel herself, “or else y-you’ll keep bleeding everywhere.”

“Yes, Tsumiki-san...” Kokichi lowered his gaze, trying to tune out the burning on his leg as the nurse prepared the materials. He was lucky she happened to be close by; otherwise, he would’ve had to limp the whole way home where his dads were sure to freak out.

They were still going to freak out, but the boy figured it would be easier on them if there wasn’t blood everywhere and the wound closed prior.

“W-What were you even doing...?” Mikan asked, uncapping disinfectant. She gently reached over to pull the red-stained towel back, looking at the gash. “T-That’s pretty deep--!”

The second Kokichi had caught his leg on the chain link, he had come up with a lie to tell the adults when they would ask what happened. The lie spilt from his lips like water.

“I had my homework on me because I was studying in the library, but a breeze picked up and took part of my essay into the weeds. When I tried to follow it, I slipped on the rocks that led down to the beach and ripped my leg open on a fallen branch.”

Kokichi felt the corner of his mouth twitch in an urge to grin when Mikan nodded, humming, and took the towel away. She had bought it.

The boy didn’t necessarily  _ like  _ to lie, but he had discovered recently that he was fairly good at it.

“G-Goodness... were you able t-to get your essay back?” The nurse nudged the towel underneath his leg and went to tip the disinfectant over the wound. 

Kokichi nodded, but he let out an involuntary hiss as she poured the liquid down his leg; it stung and burned almost immediately and Mikan broke out into a string of apologies.

“I-I-It can’t s-stay infected, I-I’m s-sorry...! I k-know it hurts...” The disinfectant was clear when it was poured on, but as it ran through the wound and down the curvature of his calf, it was tinted pink. The towel underneath caught it, but there was a lot of blood to begin with. The wound bubbled as the infection was washed away and Kokichi clenched his teeth and held his breath to try and tune out the pain.

It had taken a while, but the wound eventually ceased its bubbling and sizzling, and Mikan recapped the bottle and reached for her needle and thread. Kokichi’s purple hair wasn’t as lively as it usually was, sweat sticking his bangs to his face and his flyaways weighted down by the humidity of the day. He swallowed hard, looking down at his leg. It was pretty bad.

If he hadn’t been so short, he might have been able to make it over the fence with no problem. The chain link surrounding the ruins was fairly tattered and torn and had holes in certain places; Kokichi had noticed a broken window around the side of the building the last time he had went to talk to the Future Foundation there. Whenever he had to go, they were insistent on beelining him to the gymnasium and  _ only  _ the gymnasium; the fact that the Foundation prevented him from even going to the bathroom by himself rang alarm bells in the boy’s head. (Plus, the heavily-recorded front entrance with the five-digit combination seemed fairly sketchy in itself.)

That only made his curiosity worse.

He had decided that he would sneak in through the fence and broken window and explore the ruins once he had some time to himself. No harm, no foul--he just wanted to check out what the rest of the building looked like and then he would leave. The emptiness inside scared him anyway; it wasn’t like he wanted to stick around.

What he had expected was there--but  _ didn’t  _ expect to find--was a sealed-away office with a cabinet full of important-looking documents.

At first, Kokichi eagerly carded through the organizers, hoping to find super-secret stuff that could help him save the world or something. (Did it even need saved? He didn’t know, but the idea of being the one to do it sounded awesome.) After about five minutes of nothing but flipping through, he found nothing interesting and went to put things back where he found them so nobody would suspect a thing. 

By some stroke of luck, he had been holding one of the folders upside down, and the stack of papers inside slid out and spread across the dusty tiled floor.

Groaning (and mildly afraid, since he wasn’t sure what order the papers had been in; it would be hard to cover his tracks this way), the boy bent down and began to pick the files back up.

With another stroke of luck, Kokichi happened to catch a glimpse of his Papa’s name.

At first, he didn’t believe it. He squinted, sorting through the papers again to see if his eyes had played tricks on him.

Sure enough, it was mentioned right there in the middle of a long essay-type document-- _ Nagito Komaeda _ \--and immediately Kokichi decided he wouldn’t be satiated leaving it behind.

Careful to listen for any noise or indication someone else was in the building, the boy flipped back through that folder and found that his Papa was brought up a  _ lot.  _ He also caught the names of almost all of the others throughout the folder as well as some names he didn’t recognize. 

Apparently his Daddy had several papers all about him, but the room was too dark for the boy to be able to read what they said.

Deciding he needed to leave--but not without his findings--Kokichi replaced the folder sans a couple of documents, folding them and tucking them away in his back pocket.

Kokichi’s back pocket was clearly hiding something, but the way he sat on the ground covered it up well. He had been trying to hurry over the chain link when he fell, his leg catching on a cut-out piece, tearing it wide open.

But nobody had to know that. 

Much to Kokichi’s surprise, he couldn’t feel it when Mikan began to sew the wound closed.

“I didn’t even notice,” he said, and the nurse smiled warmly, taking that as a compliment.

“I-I’m stitching right a-a-around the outside, so the skin is-s already numb there...!” Mikan was gentle yet quick as she sewed, the burning of the disinfectant already having worn off and making the child feel a lot better. 

He sat contently as the woman stitched him up, picking gravel out of his palm. She was talking, but his mind was elsewhere, and he found himself thinking back to the papers in his pocket. Clearly they were secretive, because they wouldn’t have been buried so deep in such a heavily-guarded building. He’d have to hide them from his parents--everyone else as well--but he had no idea where nobody would think to look.

An idea popped into his head and Kokichi was suddenly interested in the work Mikan was currently doing.

“Tsumiki-san, is it hard to sew?” He tilted his head, giving the woman puppy dog eyes. He knew his eyes were big because his Papa always used to tell him he could see all of the world’s most beautiful things reflected in those eyes. Puppy dog eyes typically worked.

“O-Oh--!” Mikan lifted her head, blushing a bit as she prevented herself from rambling on about her practice, “N-Not really! You just t-take your thread and feed it through the e-eye of the needle and tie it off...” She finished up the stitch in his leg. “A-As soon as I’m done here, I’ll show you...!”

The nurse tied off the string and cut the long part, allowing Kokichi to move his leg to see what she had done. She used a damp rag to wipe the skin of any excess blood and wrapped the calf in gauze in case it should begin to bleed for whatever reason as he went home. Mikan smiled brightly as she instructed Kokichi how to thread a needle and how to do a couple different types of stitches. He listened for a while before eventually stopping her and explaining he really needed to get home to give his essay to his Daddy, thanking her for helping him out and giving her a big hug. (Tsumiki-san loved hugs, his parents said, but she was always too nervous to initiate them.) As he squeezed her tight, he managed to swipe a needle and thread set that she had used to demonstrate, quickly tucking it in his pocket before she noticed.

When Kokichi had reached the cottages again, he was pleased to find that his parents weren’t anywhere to be found. His essay wasn’t due until the next day and he recalled his Papa saying that their wedding anniversary was the next day, so they likely wouldn’t be home until late that night.

Sitting down on his bed, the boy pulled out the now-crumpled documents he had stolen from the ruins. He was going to read them, of course, but before he did, he wanted to ensure that his hiding spot was plausible.

Monomi always sat at the top of his bed, no matter how old he got. She hadn’t been repaired by Hajime in years and her wear was beginning to catch up to her; her fabric was completely worn in some spots and was patchy in others. One of her ears were on the verge of falling off and her left button eye was loosening.

Kokichi picked her up and held her in his lap for a moment, letting out a long sigh. He understood that she wasn’t real, but she had been his best friend when he was incredibly little, and the thought of ripping her open by the seams was a bit depressing.

But he found the courage to do it, carefully ripping at an already-splitting belly seam, opening her up just enough for him to be able to slide folded documents through and hide them deep inside the stuffing.

His needle and thread on standby, the ten-year-old boy sat cross-legged on his bed--Monomi in his lap--and he unfolded the documents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-)
> 
> i'm runnin out of remnants folks and kokichi's getting older; the angst is likely going to creep in to some degree in each chapter from here on out. buckle up!!
> 
> as a side note i've finished danganronpa 3 and WOAH it made me cry several times. it's fantastic!! that being said, there's an extra character that will get their own chapter. (if you finished the series you know which character i'm referring to)
> 
> still need to watch danganronpa 2.5 though!!


	12. Byakuya Twogami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> twogami helps kokichi and his parents fix up kokichi's new cottage

The boy sat on his bed, watching his dads and Twogami shift furniture back towards the wall. The entire room smelled of paint, but it had all nearly dried save for the bit on the wall behind him; his bed was pulled out slightly to allow the wall to air. There were several box fans blowing against the newly-gray, the droning of all of them enough to muffle the adults’ laughing to the child. Kokichi had promised he’d help, but he’d only done a little bit before deciding he was tired and sat and watched the adults instead. (Not that they necessarily minded; the cottages were fairly small and there were three of them anyway.)

Nagito stretched, pulling his hands behind his head to pull the tie in his hair tighter, keeping it out of his face. “I’m glad this is over with!” He spoke over the fans, but even that noise had been barely enough for him to bear; Hajime tucked some of his husband’s hair behind his ear, silently comforting him knowing that the noise was likely bothering him. The brunet turned a few of them off, seeing as the walls were dry.

“I can’t believe it.” Hajime turned to Kokichi, who sat criss-crossed on the duvet, twirling hair in his finger. “You’re seriously old enough for your own cottage now.”

The boy smiled, letting his hand drop to his lap. Nagito spoke before he could.

“Stop growing up,” the man whined, crossing his arms, “I don’t want my baby to grow up.”

“I’m only eleven,” Kokichi replied.

“‘Only’,” Twogami jumped in, grinning a bit, “Most children your age would insist that they were an adult at age eleven.”

Kokichi just shrugged, picking at his thumb. Nagito went over and swatted at him, wordlessly telling him to quit. The boy complied and his father sat next to him on the bed, the mattress dipping a bit under the weight, and Nagito put an arm around Kokichi’s shoulder to pull him close. Cold metal brushed the boy’s arm.

“Are you excited?” He asked. The boy nodded, smiling, and wrapped his arms around his father’s middle. He buried his face in Nagito’s neck and the man was overjoyed, laughing a bit.

“Okay, Byakuya,” Hajime said, looking around at the slightly-messy room, “What else do we need? I’m blanking.”

“Well, do you have curtains? I understand you wanted to change the colors of the room and I don’t think the wooden blinds would look right.” Twogami gestured to the mini-fridge. “Will that stay?”

Hajime and Nagito exchanged glances, shrugging and nodding. “I don’t see why not,” Hajime concluded, “as long as too much isn’t in there at once.”   


“Can I keep Panta in there?” Kokichi chirped out, lifting his head from Nagito’s neck. His eyes were bright and hopeful as he balled his fists. Hajime hummed, giving him a skeptical glance.

“Only a bit at a time,” he decided as Kokichi groaned and let his head fall into his Papa’s shoulder. “It’ll rot your teeth. Plus it isn’t really good for you; you shouldn’t even really drink it in the first place.”

“What are you, a dentist?” The child squinted at him in a pout, Nagito gently hitting his back.

“That’s enough...” His Papa warned him with a stern yet gentle voice; both of them had been scolding him to watch his tone as of late. They agreed that it was because of upcoming teenage hormones.

Hajime chose to ignore it as did Twogami, who cleared his throat.

“You’ll need to get new curtains and any sort of snacks for the fridge.” Twogami crossed his arms and Hajime nodded in agreeance, looking over to Kokichi.

“Kichi, why don’t you go with Togami-san to the market to find curtains and snacks?” Nagito nodded too, letting Kokichi go and standing up, allowing the boy to stand up as well. The taller man looked back at the wall behind the bed. 

“Hajime, you and I should probably touch up this wall,” he suggested, green eyes glancing at his husband, “it seems kind of spotty.” This had been his cottage; for the last decade or so, they had been using it for storage since he had moved in with Hajime, but they had agreed to give it to Kokichi once he was old enough. (However, there were unpleasant memories linked with that room, so they switched the furniture arrangements and repainted the walls to try and cover the memories up.)

Kokichi put his shoes on, Twogami already by the door and waiting for him. Nagito joined Hajime and the two grabbed paint trays; almost immediately after, the boy floated over to them and they set it back down to be able to envelop him in a dual hug, kissing both of his cheeks like they always did. The child giggled, hugging them both to the best of his ability, and he rejoined Twogami again. 

“Be good,” Hajime insisted, Nagito wrapping both of his arms around one of his. Kokichi nodded.

“Byakuya,  _ one  _ Panta.” Hajime added, and Kokichi let out a yell of distaste.

“No way!” He puffed out his cheeks and stomped. “Can’t I have more?”

“One, Kokichi.” His Daddy wasn’t letting up and the boy knew better than to argue with him, so he reluctantly left him at that.

Twogami was always uptight and, in a way, kind of difficult to talk to; to Kokichi, he gave off the vibes of that one uncle you only saw at holiday dinners that tried to ask you about school like you were only recently acquainted and it was awkward the entire time.

(Kokichi had never actually experienced this, but he’d seen it on TV plenty of times.)

They had run into Gundham at the market; he was in search of baby carrots for the Devas, who crawled up Kokichi’s shirt sleeves and popped out the neck hole and made him laugh. Eventually, they left him alone, and Kokichi played with his hair as he glanced between curtains.

“Your walls are gray,” Twogami reminded him, “So thankfully, you could get any color curtains you want--save for an off-white--and they would probably look okay.” He crossed his arms, ever serious. “They’ll just go over your blinds that you have now.”

Kokichi didn’t really care much about aesthetics--all he knew was that purple was his favorite color, so he was able to decide easily.

It was the snacks that were somewhat difficult to pick.

Twogami wasn’t willing to break the rules, grip tight on the neck of a bottle of soda as Kokichi tried with all his might to pull it free from his hand, feet sliding on the floor.

_ “Togami-saaaaan!” _ The boy whined, still trying his hardest and grunting as he made no progress.

“I’m sorry, Kokichi, but your father says only one, so that is how many we’re leaving here with.” He pushed his glasses up with his free hand. “I can wait however long it takes for you to come to terms with his wishes.”

Kokichi stopped for a moment, both palms on the bottle as he looked up at the towering man before him. After a second of silence, he went right back to yanking on the plastic, but Twogami kept his word; it only took a minute or so longer before the child gave up.

He had decided to get pudding cups on top of the soda (because he admittedly could eat chocolate pudding by the gallon) and left the market, wishing there had been a way to smuggle Panta out.

Twogami attempted to make small talk with him on the way back, asking him about how he had been doing, how his homeschooling was, if he was excited for Christmas coming up soon. While Kokichi answered honestly, he had another burning question on his mind that he was trying to find an opportunity to slip in.

As they drew closer to the main gates, the purple-haired boy realized that the chance wasn’t going to come, so he chose to just blurt it out.

“Togami-san, why is it that you and Togami-san with the Future Foundation have the same name and look the same?”

Twogami stopped in his tracks, face blank as he sought for an answer. Kokichi felt bad putting him on the spot--of course he already knew the answer; he just wanted to test his reaction to see if he would lie--and stopped as well, peering up at him with big, innocent eyes.

The man cleared his throat, putting his fist to his chest. His eyes darted a bit as he formed the sentence in his head as he spoke it. Kokichi tilted his head in curiosity. “There... is a reason for this. You’re old enough to realize that this is probably strange. However...”

Kokichi shifted his hold on the plastic bags, swallowing and keeping his gaze steady.

“I don’t believe you would understand the reason just yet. I’ll explain it all once you’re a bit older.” With that, Twogami began walking again.

This didn’t satisfy the prankster and he huffed, jogging to catch up.

“I’m old enough to have my own room now! You can tell me!” The child was insistent, tugging on the white sleeves of the man’s shirt. Twogami shook his head and Kokichi grit his teeth in silence; this wasn’t his day.

“It’s very complicated. I’m sorry, Kokichi, but I can’t tell you.”

The boy exhaled loudly out of his nose, crossing his arms as he walked, hoping the pout might coax even the slightest answer out of the Ultimate Imposter.

But it didn’t and they walked in silence the whole way back to the docks.

His parents had the cottage door and the windows propped open to air out the paint fumes, but as the child and Twogami went to round the corner, Nagito burst through the doorway with a loud laugh, whirling on his heel.

Hajime had a paintbrush and followed after him, standing by the placemat and flicking it in his husband’s direction, laughing too when the taller man flinched and held his arms up.

“Hinata-kun, stop!” Nagito laughed from deep in his belly, forearms speckled with gray. Hajime grinned as he yelled something intelligible and ran back into the room as the other held up his own paintbrush, managing to catch his wrist and yank him back out onto the dock. Kokichi’s mood softened as he watched his dads playfully wrestle one another, trying to cover the other in paint.

Twogami chuckled, a gentle grin on his face as the child’s mouth hung slightly open. “It’s very refreshing to see that they love each other no less than they did when they first married.”

Kokichi looked straight up, trying to meet his big purple gaze with the blue eyes hidden behind the glasses. Nagito managed to get Hajime in a headlock and the brunet let out a yell of unaccepted defeat as his husband swiped a thumb across his cheek, leaving a streak of gray behind.

“Really?” Kokichi asked, curious, and Twogami nodded.

“It was incredibly sweet to watch the process of them falling in love,” Twogami explained, Hajime squirming free and grabbing Nagito by the shoulders; he pulled him close and squished their cheeks together, the paler man nearly buckling at the knees from laughing so hard. His husband was there to catch him under the arms, laughing just as hard. “Your Papa fell desperately in love with your Dad from the second he met him. It took your Dad a while to realize he felt the same way, but once they both realized their feelings were reciprocated, they began to grow closer until they got to this point they’re at now.”

Kokichi blinked, going back to watching his parents. It was true; they seemed to be having a blast, Nagito’s cheek smeared with gray now as well, and he pulled his husband close to him. He brought a metal hand up to Hajime’s cheek and they both closed their eyes, slotting their lips together in a warm kiss, both covered in paint and too smitten to care. The boy wrinkled his nose a bit at the PDA, sticking out his tongue with a disgusted noise and earning another chuckle from the Imposter.

“You’re grossed out as expected,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “but I hope as you grow older you come to appreciate their love for one another. Most marriages don’t see past a couple of years this day and age. It’s beautiful how they can still love like teenagers would.”

The child let those words soak in for a moment, his hand sweaty underneath the handle of the plastic bag. As far as he could remember, his parents never fought. They were always open with each other and weren’t shy about their relationship, holding hands and hugging and kissing no matter where they were or who they were in front of. They always made decisions together and made sure that the other was comfortable. They loved Kokichi with their whole hearts and more and would have given him the world if he’d asked for it. He was truly, honestly lucky to have the parents that he had; they showered him and each other with nothing but affection.

Kokichi suddenly felt a bit shamefaced for ever sticking his nose in documents that it didn’t belong in.

Deciding it was a good time to enter, Twogami nudged the boy forward so they could continue towards the cottage, and upon hearing them the husbands broke their kiss; his Papa was a bit red in the face, but he was smiling wide as he slid a hand to Hajime’s waist.

“Did you find curtains?” Hajime grinned, still a bit slap-happy. His shirt was covered in paint. Kokichi nodded, pulling the package out of the bag, and both of his dads hummed.

“We should have known,” Nagito giggled, reaching out to ruffle Kokichi’s hair with his not-painted hand, “Your skin is going to turn purple if you don’t start liking other colors soon.”

The four of them went back into the cottage, Kokichi helping Twogami set up the curtains while his dads washed their hands a room over, still laughing with one another. Kokichi’s heart hurt with guilt as he heard them teasing each other; he felt wrong for ever viewing them in a different light than the one he had ever since he was a baby.

What was unfortunate was that the thought was now in his head; no matter how hard he tried to overwrite it, it would still linger, unable to leave.

Once the walls were entirely dry and everything was in place, Twogami left and the afternoon carried on like normal. After dinner, his parents took him to his new cottage, tucking him in bed and sitting on the edge to ease the child of any nervousness he might have had.

He held onto Hajime’s hand as his Daddy explained how proud they were of him and what a great boy he was growing up to be. His Papa leaned against Kokichi’s blanketed legs, smiling gently as he tried to laugh away tears, telling the boy to stop growing up so fast because their hearts couldn’t handle it.

They stayed to talk with Kokichi for a bit longer before tucking Monomi in next to him; the child was thankful she was there, since she was familiar and smelled a bit like a mix of his fathers’ colognes by chance. His dads brushed his bangs back and gave him goodnight kisses on the forehead, stopping by the door one last time to tearfully gaze back at him before shutting him in the darkness, a single nightlight plugged in by his bedside allowing some sort of comfort.

Kokichi laid flat on his back with Monomi tucked under his arm, her messy belly stitches that he had sewn rough against his skin. He stared at the ceiling, trying desperately to forget the things he’d read, pleading for any sort of deity that would listen to rid him of the knowledge.

But it was impossible. 

Dejected and lonely without his parents sleeping across the room, Kokichi burst into tears, burying his face in Monomi and sobbing into her pink and white fleece until he managed to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figured nagito and hajime deserved to have a moment of their own; they've been married for over a decade after all, and none of their love has faded in the slightest!!
> 
> i've got inspiration for the rest of the remnants thank god so i'm hoping my updates will stay frequent and that this puppy will come to completion fairly soon! this has been really fun to work on so far haha


	13. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> over a decade earlier, nagito has a suggestion that he's scared hajime would say no to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so here is a fluffy chapter exclusively for hajime and nagito. i had the idea for something like this as a oneshot, but i figured it worked best here as an interlude.
> 
> i'm getting these chapters out way quicker than i expected. keep an eye on your inboxes! we'll be back to regularly scheduled programming next chapter.
> 
> (this may be a little ooc but i'm aching for fluff, sorry kjdsfk)

They always put the TV on at night unless it was a particularly exhausting day; today had been alright, yet despairingly typical--they all met for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, working on fixing up the island in between.

Hajime was content to just lay there, Nagito’s head nestled half in the crook of his neck, half on his chest. Their legs were tangled underneath the blankets and their chests were warm against each other; the brunet had an arm around his husband, palm splayed gently across the top of his back. Nagito had an arm draped across Hajime’s belly, and he let out a pleased hum when the hand moved from his back to run through his thin white hair.

Nagito’s eyes were closed and Hajime was only half-paying attention to whatever show was on anyway. He was much more focused on the comforting weight of the man next to him and was conscious of any movement he made.

That was how he realized Nagito’s breath was a bit unsteady and he squirmed around more than usual, unable to really get comfortable.

Hajime leaned back a bit, running his hand against his husband’s forehead and brushing his bangs back so he could kiss him there. Nagito’s eyes fluttered open to look up at the other man. He looked tired.

“What’s wrong?” Hajime asked, Nagito shifting a bit so could lay directly next to him. The luckster smiled softly, shaking his head.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Nagito lied. Hajime furrowed his brow.

“No, something clearly is,” he pressed further, turning onto his side, “you’re super tense and your breathing is funny.” The pale man chuckled in amusement as his husband was as analytical as ever, looking him over with concerned mismatched eyes. “You forget how close we are. I can read you like a book, Ko, and I know when you’re lying.”

That was true--Nagito couldn’t slip a single thing underneath the radar with Hajime around; he supposed that only a part of that was because of his talent, because they were around each other 24/7 and he’d likely picked up on his different mannerisms.

Nagito averted his gaze, pulling his arm from where it had laid across Hajime’s middle and opting to hug himself instead, squeezing at his own biceps.

“Aha, I’m a terrible liar, aren’t I?” He grinned botheredly, feeling his body weaken a bit as he caught himself slipping into a depreciative episode. He and his husband had been working desperately to undo that habit; Hajime’s brow furrowed but his gaze softened in praise when the luckster stopped before he could start.

“I just know you well enough. So spit it out, babe. I’m not going to give up until you tell me what’s bothering you.”

The pet name made Nagito’s cheeks burn out of love and his body melt into the sheets. He bit his lower lip and tried to gather his thoughts. 

“...It’s stupid,” he finally said.

“Nagito,” Hajime put his hands on either side of the man’s face, cupping his chin in his hands and caressing his lip with his thumb, “it’s not stupid if it’s bothering you. Please talk to me.”

“What if you laugh at me?”

“Never,” Hajime insisted, tucking some of Nagito’s wild hair behind his ear.

Dull green eyes closed at the touch. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I won’t hate you,” Hajime wasn’t going to give up, although the last comment admittedly made him a bit nervous; he prayed that whatever it was, it didn’t involve an alteration in their relationship. It had taken him long enough to get the guts to propose to Nagito in the first place, seeing as he’d predicted he’d deny him several times out of belief that he didn’t deserve it. But he was persistent and kept asking, knowing that the other  _ wanted  _ to say yes each and every time. The fourth time the luckster finally allowed himself to fight against his instinct and let himself have something he’d always longed for.

Nagito rolled over onto his back, rubbing his face with his right hand. “Fine, Hinata-kun, b-but... I can’t look at you when I say it.”

Hajime nodded, giving the man space if he needed it. He did, however, take the shaky right hand in his own, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. It was clammy but it squeezed back as Nagito stared directly up at the ceiling, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

The brunet braced himself for the worst possible scenario. He watched the man’s lips part and heard his confession in advance.

_ This was a mistake. _

_ We should have never married, Hinata. _

_ I’m not in love with you anymore. _

Instead, the words that came out were so overwhelmingly positive that Hajime’s blood rushed to his cheeks and muffled up his hearing.

“I want a baby.”

Hajime was taking the time to register that he heard right, heart thumping hard against his neck, but Nagito took the silence as appalled shock and buried his face in his hands.

_ “Oh, God, I should’ve never said anything--” _

“--Nagito,” the smile was audible in Hajime’s voice, looking over at his husband, “Nagito, say that again.”

“H-Huh--?” The white-haired man removed his hands, glancing over at Hajime in confusion; his cheeks were already streaked with tears.

“Nagito--oh, my God, Nagito--if you mean it, say it again.” Hajime was nearly laughing, cheeks flushed pink. “Please?”

Nagito blinked, sniffling, but wiped at his cheek and nodded. His voice was small and shaky. “I want to raise a child together.”

The brunet let out a yell of excitement, throwing his arms around his husband and squeezing him tightly; eager lips pressed against his temple as a calloused hand carded through his white hair.

“Nagito--Nagito, baby,” Hajime was teary-eyed himself, laughing again as he pulled back to look the man in the eyes. The luckster seemed confused but his expression lightened every second, grabbing Hajime’s shoulder. “Nagito, I want nothing more in the world than to be a parent with you.”

The positive affirmation was enough to make Nagito’s lip quiver and his eyes well up; he began to cry and palm at his cheeks as Hajime pulled him so close that he could smell his shampoo, holding him as tight as he could without hurting his frail husband.

“I-I’m sorry I’m crying,” Nagito stuttered, burying his face into Hajime’s cheek, “I--I’m just--”

“--Did you think I’d say no?” The brunet interrupted, resting his head against the other’s. He ran his hand through the soft white locks. 

Nagito pulled back a bit, sniffling again when Hajime cupped his cheeks. “N-No, but I worried just in case...”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hajime pressed a kiss onto Nagito’s lips. “It sounds like fun. Plus, I know how much you love kids. I kind of expected that you’d want one at some point.”

Nagito laughed gently as Hajime swiped away his tears with his thumb; it was true and his heart ached for the Warriors of Hope, wishing he could have been there for them again. They were all undeniably grown up now and he prayed that they turned out alright. Kids seemed to take to him just as much--he enjoyed being somebody that they could look up to and feel protected by, even though he knew he wasn’t exactly the best role model.

“I love you,” The luckster breathed, bringing their foreheads together. Hajime chuckled, the warmth feeling nice as he held Nagito in an embrace.

“I love you more.”

“Impossible. Although, Hinata-kun...” Nagito’s voice trembled a bit again, “we have a slight issue.”

Hajime stayed silent in wait of a response, but Nagito said nothing else, breathing through his nose. It was after a moment that the brunet realized.

_ Ah. _

“Surrogate?” Hajime suggested, but Nagito wrinkled his nose a bit at that.

“I don’t really think any of the girls would be interested...”  _ The one that would have loved to--and would be sound enough to do so--had died a long time ago.  _ “Plus, if possible, I’d really like to adopt...”

Nagito had a point. His insistence on adopting didn’t surprise him, either; he figured he would feel as much since he’d seen what situations the Warriors had come out of. He himself had been an orphan, even though he managed to get by just fine by himself. Hajime wondered if his husband didn’t want any child to feel as lonely as he had.

“Our only issue,” Nagito continued, his breath hitching as tears involuntarily spilled again at the negative thoughts, “is that we’re the only ones on this island and the Future Foundation would never agree to put a child under the care of people like us.”

Hajime held Nagito close as he began to cry once more, hanging on tightly to his other half. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew that the man was likely right yet again; they would have to go through the Foundation to adopt a child from the mainland, and there were several issues with this.

They wouldn’t be allowed to go to the mainland to meet anyone, nobody could come to the island to meet them, and they would be incredibly hesitant to allow a child anywhere near the Remnants of Despair, let alone under supervision of the two (arguably) most dangerous.

But Hajime, as Nagito knew, was persistent.

“We’ll just have to convince them,” Hajime’s gaze was serious as he continued to dry Nagito’s tears, “They know we’re getting better. They know we’re trying. They also know that you’re basically the Ultimate Child Caregiver, so that’ll probably help our case a little.” He smiled when his husband laughed a little at that, and Hajime moved back to where he had been laying before, pulling Nagito close to him. The white-haired man replaced his head on his shoulder and held the brunet as he sniffled and wiped his eyes. The light of the TV screen projected changing colors across the room and painted their skin in hues of blue and yellow.

“We just can’t give up, that’s all. I’m sure Naegi will help us.” Hajime nestled his cheek against the top of his husband’s head, who turned a bit so their cheeks could touch. Nagito closed his eyes, breath steadying but still shaky. “Just have hope, babe. You used to talk about it so much; I think it’s time you take some of your own advice.”

Nagito chuckled warmly, nuzzling his nose against Hajime’s. He had the ability to always make him feel better.

“You’d make a great father, Hajime,” he said, and Hajime pecked the cheek of the love of his life.

“As would you.” And he genuinely meant it.

They would just have to be persistent. If their dual luck was of any use, it was bound to work in their favor at some point.

After all, in their case, hope always won.


	14. Peko Pekoyama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peko and hajime teach kokichi how to use a shinai in battle and nagito is. Nervous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also!! peko canonically uses a shinai, which is a bamboo sword. i was doing research and wasn't finding much on them because they really aren't used in battle often, only in training. so there's not much here and if it's inaccurate i'm sorry!

Nagito’s voice was higher pitched than normal as he hunched over, hands wedged in his hair in worry.

“I--I still think this is unnecessary,” he wheezed, uneasy at the sight of his son holding a sword that was taller than he was and nearly half his weight. The boy’s arm muscles were at work to keep it balanced and upright; it was top-heavy since it wasn’t a beginner shinai--it was Peko’s, and she didn’t have anything fit for a twelve-year-old boy.

“It’s fine,” Hajime reassured him, also holding a sword. Peko was also there. She also had a sword. (She always had a sword, but this time it was out with the intention of using it.)

Nagito made a noise of disbelief, burying his face in his hands. Mikan sat next to him and was somewhat more shaky than normal, humming anxiously and toying with her bandaged fingers.

“I-I have faith in y-you guys--!” She smiled, but it seemed forced as if she were doing so in an attempt to convince herself. Peko rested the tip of her sword against the ground, pushing up her glasses.

“There is no reason to worry,” she explained, voice soft, “Hajime and I both know what we are doing. We won’t bring any sort of harm to Kokichi.”

“Yeah! If he’s headin’ to the mainland, kid’s gotta know how to protect himself!” Nekomaru whooped from the other side of the room, throwing an enthusiastic fist in the air. “These two years are gonna come quick. Having a good idea of self defense isn’t a harmful thing!”

“I just--I don’t think he’s going to run into this problem?” Nagito grinned nervously, holding out his metal hand. “I don’t think he’s going to run into somebody that’s going to try and fight him with a sword while also coincidentally carrying a sword. I just don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“You can never be too careful!” Nekomaru countered, voice incredibly loud; it was too loud for Nagito’s liking and he shrunk in on himself, hugging his torso. Hajime walked over to place a kiss on his husband’s cheek, brushing light pink hair behind his ear.

“Everything will be fine.” His voice was gentle, smiling when green eyes flicked up from where they were hiding behind light eyelashes. “We’ve got him; we know what we’re doing, plus they’re only bamboo. He’s safe.”

Nagito seemed to relax a little, but his body tensed up again when he saw Kokichi raise the sword triumphantly above his head, wrist trembling from the weight.

“Yeah, Papa! I’ll be fine! It can’t be hard--” Kokichi yelled, but he bent his arm too far back and the sword went to fall, taking him with it. Nagito let out a yelp of fear as he and Hajime instinctively jerked up to run to him, but Peko was swift and caught both the sword and the boy before anything could happen. Kokichi’s pale cheeks tinted red as he hung his head, the swordswoman gently pushing the handle back into his grip.

“The sword is delicate, as are you, young Oma,” Peko blinked, Hajime cradling Nagito’s head for a moment to calm him down, “You need to be more cautious with how you wield it so you don’t bring harm to yourself.”

Kokichi bowed apologetically. “Yes, Pekoyama-san.”

“We should get started,” Hajime said, walking across the mat to the other end. Peko nodded, looking to the child and nodding at him as well before going to the end opposite of Hajime. Kokichi remained in the middle and he swallowed hard, fixing his stance and gripping onto the handle of the bamboo sword with both hands. It was sweaty in his grip from nerves.

“We aren’t going to attack you from both sides at first,” Peko explained, Kokichi turning his head to her, “but as you get used to the technique, the other will jump in.” She stretched her neck to look at Hajime, who lifted his head in acknowledgement. “Would you like to start or should I?”

“I’ll leave it to you, Peko,” Hajime nodded, sheathing his shinai, “It’s your talent, after all.”

Kokichi’s eyebrows furrowed a little at that. _ But it’s yours, too, and you’re probably better, _he thought, but he pushed it out of his mind as it came.

“Stance,” Peko instructed, and Kokichi began to focus, standing ready. He wiggled his fingers and tried not to turn his gaze toward his Papa in his peripherals, who was groaning and hiding his face behind his hands. He could feel his Dad’s eyes on him from behind.

“Ready?” Peko asked. Her stare was serious behind her glasses and Kokichi nodded once. Nagito held his breath and held onto Mikan, who was also jittery and nervous.

He blinked and suddenly she was gone. The boy let out a yelp, but before he could even look around for her, he saw a flash of black and gray to his left. He swiftly brought his shinai up in defense as she struck hers down, the sound of the bamboo clacking against each other echoing loud in the room. A small smirk twitched onto Peko’s face and Nekomaru let out a whoop as the two stepped back.

_ “Hell yeah, Kokichi!” _ Nekomaru grinned wide as they stood still, shinais crossed at the very ends. Big purple eyes flicked over the swordswoman in calculation of her next move, sweat beading underneath his bangs. _ “Good job at keeping your defense up!” _

Peko moved forward and went to strike down again, and when Kokichi shakily met her shinai with his, she swept her arms under and went to strike him from below. He squeaked and hurriedly moved so he could block it again, just barely making it. He shifted away to put distance between the two, holding his shinai in the neutral position. He was already out of breath and his palms were sweaty against the handle.

Hajime moved aside to allow Kokichi space, since the boy had travelled towards the farther end of the mat where he had been standing. He focused on the boy’s body language before letting out a hum and speaking to him quietly.

“You’re on the defense, which isn’t necessarily wrong,” he said, catching Kokichi’s attention, “but why don’t you attack?”

“I’m scared to,” Kokichi openly admitted, looking back over to where the woman stood with her sword. “I don’t want to accidentally do something wrong and hurt her.”

“She’s been doing this ever since she was little; you won’t hurt her.” Hajime smirked, pulling his shinai up. The look of terror that swept across his son’s face was priceless; he wished he could have gotten a picture of it.

“I thought you said you were gonna give him a minute--” Nagito spoke up, objecting with a lift of his index finger. Hajime rolled his eyes and turned to look at him, grinning.

“Have a little faith in the kid...” He hummed, eyes flicking up just barely above Kokichi’s head. Nagito let out a yell in anticipation milliseconds before Kokichi realized what was going on; he was quick to turn and lift his sword up to block Peko’s attack from behind, deflecting her multiple strikes. He panted in exhaustion once they were back to neutral stance, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. Hajime gave him a nod of encouragement, moving into place as well.

“Remember that you won’t hurt us,” Hajime reminded, waiting for purple flyaways to bounce as the boy nodded.

Almost immediately after, the brunet swung down his shinai, Kokichi blocking it and jabbing back. Hajime was able to move but Peko came to the boy’s right side, prompting him to swing the sword over to deflect her as well. Nekomaru was red in the face as he screamed praise, while Nagito’s already-pale skin was entirely devoid of color as he hid it in Mikan’s shoulder. The nurse sat on the edge of her seat with her skirt bunched up in her fists.

Kokichi, much to everyone’s surprise, wasn’t half bad at swordfighting. He was quick to move and block both his Dad’s and Peko’s strikes and jabs and he was able to fit in quick swipes of his own. Whenever one opponent would be the focus, the other would move back and attempt to ambush him, but he was too aware of his surroundings for it to work. The three of them continued to spar until the boy’s movements began to slow and his swings grew weaker. Hajime backed off first, Peko continuing to push Kokichi until he shook his head after a particularly draining combo, doubling over and letting his shinai half-rest on the ground. The woman sheathed hers.

“Impressive, young Oma,” she crossed her arms and adjusted her glasses, “Just from the little bit that we taught you before we arrived here, you were able to deflect and attack without obtaining a single scratch.”

“Th-Thank you...” Kokichi nodded in acknowledgement, wiping his forehead again. Hajime sheathed his and went over to his son, taking his shinai for him.

“I’m surprised and impressed. Did you have fun?”

Kokichi nodded again, smiling at his Dad and still struggling for breath. “I did! But I was nervous the whole time.”

“Nerves can go away,” Peko mentioned.

“Nagito, it’s over with,” Nekomaru chimed in from across the room, “You can uncover your eyes now.”

The light-haired man slowly lifted his head from where it was (still) buried in Mikan’s shoulder, blinking as he readjusted to the light. He immediately zoned in on his son and his husband, looking them over for injuries.

“Did anybody get hurt? Is everyone okay?”

Mikan quickly stood, hands still clinging to her skirt. “I-If anybody is hurt, j-j-just--! S-Say so!”

“No one is hurt,” Hajime reassured them, running a hand through Kokichi’s hair. It was damp with sweat.

The short preteen furrowed his brow, crossing his arms and stamping his foot. “Papa, you didn’t even _ see? _I looked so cool!”

Nagito laughed apologetically, feeling his muscles begin to gain strength again. “I’m sorry, I just thought--with my luck--someone was going to get hit--”

“--Nobody got hit! It was amazing!” Nekomaru pumped his fists, striding across the mat. “You’ve got fight in you, kid! Have you ever thought about doing any sort of sports?”

Kokichi shook his head, cheeks red from the exercise, and Nekomaru hooked a muscular arm around his shoulders to pull him in for a noogie once he was close enough. The boy yelped and tried to break free, Peko and Hajime laughing a bit.

_ “Nidai-san! Let me go!” _Kokichi cried, attempting to wrestle out of his grip and duck away from the knuckles in his skull to no avail. 

Nekomaru wasn’t even fazed, lifting his glance to both Hajime and Nagito, who had joined his husband’s side. “He really ought to train with Akane and I sometime--”

“--The last time he trained with Akane, his tooth got knocked out?” Nagito butted in, wrapping his arms around Hajime’s. Nekomaru opened his mouth to respond, but the brunet was quicker, looking at his partner.

“It was just a baby tooth,” Hajime reasoned. The other pouted.

“Still--!”

“I--” Kokichi giggled, nearly successfully wriggling out of Nekomaru’s grip. “I want to train with them! And I wanna keep training with Pekoyama-san! Can I? Can I? _ Pretty please?” _

Hajime said nothing, looking to Nagito. The luckster puffed his cheeks, exhaling out of his nose, averting his gaze in thought. The swordswoman and the manager were silent as well, exchanging glances in acknowledgement of their mutual situation. Finally, Nagito made eye contact with the boy; he was serious, but his face was soft.

“If it would make you happy, Kichi, then sure.”

Kokichi let out a whoop of excitement, wrapping his arms around the manager. _ “Yessss!! _Thank you, Papa!”

In a sudden rush of adrenaline, he grabbed one of the shinai from his Dad’s hands, thrusting it up over his head. _ “I wanna go again--” _

_ “--Not today, not today,” _Nagito was quick to take the sword back, resulting in another pout from the child, but he had enough of worrying for the day.

Seeing Kokichi smile was worth it, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday to my Husbands Hajime Hinata and Izuru Kamukura <3<3<3


	15. Ryota Mitarai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ryota is excited to hang out with kokichi, but kokichi wants answers to questions he knows only ryota will let slip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! sooooo sorry for the month of radio silence! i got busy with con crunch and then got writer's block for a while. i hope this chapter reads okay!
> 
> this is kind of a sad chapter, but i did warn that angst was going to be more prominent as we got through the remnants! i hope to update this with the next one really soon (esp bc that one is mostly fluffy). sorry if kokichi is a little out of character for a twelve year old; i wanted him to be a little more mischievous than he has been.
> 
> TW: mentions of trauma, panic attacks
> 
> if you are sensitive to either of these things, go to the notes at the end of the chapter for the TL;DR! also be careful if you haven't watched danganronpa 3 because this chapter's got some spoilers!
> 
> enjoy!

Ryota was babbling excitedly about animes Kokichi hadn’t heard about in years as he dug through piles and piles of dusty milk crates. The preteen pulled his legs up to cross them on the couch, tuning the man out entirely. Big purple eyes flicked across the walls to remember what posters had been hanging there (as Ryota’s room still looked exactly the same as it had when Kokichi was little)—_Howl’s Moving Castle, Your Name, Paprika—_all terrific anime movies that the two of them used to chat about for hours. Kokichi felt kind of bad getting Ryota’s hopes up that they were actually going to hang out for the first time in a while, but he knew Ryota was the worst liar out of the entire group, and Kokichi wanted _information._

The possibility of Ryota going to his dads and explaining what happened was also slim to none; the trickster had no worries about that.

“Do you have anywhere to be today?” Ryota politely asked, voice gentle as he smiled and continued to fish through the crates. “I don’t want to put together a playlist that runs for too long in case you have other plans--”

“--Dad said he wanted to go over the constellations today, but we can’t really do that until the sun sets.” Kokichi yawned, scratching his head. “I should probably leave around dusk so he can review some stuff with me.”

“O-Oh! Constellations! That’s cool!” He was visibly shaking as he pulled a case out of the box to inspect it before shaking his head and replacing it. “Do you like astronomy?”

“Nah, I hate it.” Kokichi rested his cheek on the heel of his palm, bored already. He wanted to cut to the chase but didn’t want to be too obvious. Ryota seemed like he wasn’t sure of what to say, stopping for a moment and peering over at the purple-headed boy.

“...O-Oh,” he mumbled. Kokichi shrugged and slid off of the couch, going over to the big flatscreen TV Ryota had.

“It’s no big deal,” the preteen said, glancing around for the remote, “I don’t really like school anyway.”

“Huh? How come?”

“I dunno. Just don’t.” Kokichi finally found what he was looking for and picked it up, turning back to the jittery man who was still digging through the dust. “Hey, can’t we just watch an anime that’s on TV instead? Don’t break your back looking for one, Mitarai-san.”

“O-Oh--!” The animator nodded, scurrying to his feet. “That could work!”

The man reached out to take the remote from Kokichi, but the boy jerked his arm away in slight panic. If Ryota got the remote then it would be close to impossible to put his plan into motion.

“--I can look! You should probably put the crates away so you don’t have to later,” Kokichi suggested, skipping back over to the couch and plopping down before the other could protest. Ryota paused for a moment to register what had happened before getting back down on his knees, talking quietly to himself out of nerves as he packed the boxes away.

Hand slightly shaking out of disbelief that he made it this far, Kokichi turned the TV on and began to click between channels. Jabberwock had a very limited range of channels, but it was enough to keep you occupied if you got bored. Kokichi already knew the channels like the back of his hand--the news, American cartoons, anime, cheesy sitcoms, and soap operas--and, if the paperwork filed in the hotel foyer was correct, they were all grouped together. There were channels that Jabberwock  _ didn’t  _ have access to (like two-thirds of the movie channels), but they acted as endcaps to the watchable channels. Every working channel was in a clump without a single straggler.

That being said, it had struck him as odd that the fifty-fourth channel in that lineup lacked a signal.

He wasn’t sure why or how, but if his suspicions were true, it had to do with the secrets that Monomi still held inside her stuffings.

Kokichi pretended to shuffle through them even though he knew exactly what channels the anime spanned across (and he knew Ryota knew he knew); he purposefully passed 54 and then backtracked, letting the black, slightly-fuzzing screen linger. The room fell into eerie silence, save for the sound of the boxes being pushed against the carpet.

“Mitarai-san?” Kokichi kept his eyes trained on the screen, watching Ryota out of the corner of his eye as he lifted his head and looked at the boy before looking at the TV.

“U-Um... yes...?”

“Why isn’t this channel here?”

Immediately, Kokichi could sense Ryota tense up, but the other was good at hiding it. The animator looked back at the preteen, shaking his head.

“N-No clue.” He lifted a finger to point at the remote, starting to get up off of the floor. “U-Uh--the anime channels started back at thirty--”

“--I know,” Kokichi interrupted, making Ryota swallow his words, “but this channel has always bothered me. Shouldn’t it be here? It’s listed under the available channels in the handbook in the hotel.”

Ryota sat down next to Kokichi, but he was no longer relaxed (by Ryota standards, anyway); he sat with his feet on the floor and his hands on his knees, slightly trembling. Kokichi kept the facade of innocence, feeling even worse for this by the minute but knowing that he was  _ clearly  _ sniffing out something important kept him going.

“I-It was probably, uh-- a mistake! Yeah, a mistake.” Ryota laughed forcibly, carding a hand through his hair. “It was p-probably never listed to begin with?” His expression fell in a nearly undetectable way when Kokichi shook his head, flyaways bouncing.

“No, that can’t be right though? Because...” He flipped further through the channels, colorful screens flashing across their faces until he hit the end of the available block, a message from the cable company explaining the unavailability of the channel displayed clearly in front of their eyes. Ryota felt his blood turn to ice when Kokichi clicked back to the dead channel, where nothing but a black screen awaited them. He flicked back and forth in wordless comparison, Ryota unable to speak and sitting in stunned silence. Kokichi felt his heart skip nervously against his neck-- _ he was onto something. _

“Eh. Whatever.” Kokichi’s eyes lit up and he balled his fists, tossing the remote on the cushion next to him. “Actually, Mitarai-san, why don’t we watch an anime you made? You’ve made tons, right?”

“Ah, w-well, not  _ tons,”  _ Ryota hummed nervously, nearly squirming in place. “I... m-made one, but--”

“--Let’s watch it, Mitarai-san!” 

“--N-No, please--”

“-- _ Awe,  _ come on, Mitarai-san!” Kokichi grinned, tilting his head. “I’m sure it’s great--”

_ “--K-K-Kokichi. Please,”  _ Ryota yelled out, squeezing his eyes shut and balling his fists in his lap. He was trembling and seemed to be fighting off tears; the hard set of his jaw was enough to shut Kokichi up, observing him quietly. His voice grew thin as he opened his eyes, staring at the floor. They were glazed over and the haunted look that shadowed his face suddenly made Kokichi nervous.

“I-I... don’t have any that I want to show.” Clammy hands gripped tightly at the seams of his pants. “N-None are good enough. And--And that’s final, Kokichi. Don’t ask me again.”

Kokichi squinted.

_ That’s an absolute lie. _

“Not good enough? But you’re the Ultimate Animator.” Kokichi cocked his head. “Anything you could consider to be your worst work would probably be way better than anything Miyazaki could ever make.”

The animator’s head snapped up and his cheeks lost their color.

“U-Ultimate-- Y-You aren’t supposed to-- How do you...?” He couldn’t form a coherent sentence, his shaking growing worse by the minute. He moved away on the couch, nervous, frightened noises slipping past his lips. Kokichi was shaking too, but he was better at masking it; he remained where he was and kept his poker face.

“Huh? The Ultimates? How do I know about them?” Kokichi took a moment before shrugging. That was his answer. Mitarai didn’t need to know where he had been snooping around, even though he knew if he told him, the animator wouldn’t say anything to his parents.

_ Sad to say--because I really do care about you--but you’re kind of a coward, huh? _

Ryota trembled without response, trying to bring his mindset back up from where it had plummeted upon mention of his anime. It was true that he had been animating since the Incident, trying to get himself to feel better, but guilt prevented him from ever getting very far. He whimpered quietly to himself, not doing very well at hiding the fact that something was  _ very  _ wrong and that Kokichi was close to figuring something out.

“So back to what I was saying,” Kokichi twirled his hair in his finger to give himself something else to focus on, “”You’re the Ultimate Animator; anything you make must be super cool and good! Why can’t you show me your work, Mitarai-san?”

His eyes flickered as the next words left his lips.

“Or are you afraid to show me what you’ve made?”

The fact that he had the upper hand as a child was incredible to Kokichi, and the feeling in his stomach when he realized he had hit the nail on the head was intoxicating. He felt terrible--he really, really did--but something about uncovering these secrets that his family had been hiding from him all these years made him blind to the feelings of whomever he was using to get that information.

Ryota let out a cry, clamping his hands over his ears and bringing his knees to his chest, trying to hide away from the horrible memories. He sobbed right there while Kokichi watched, eyes wide in amazement as his heart thumped hard against his neck. 

He had actually managed to all-but-confirm that at least some of the things he had read were real. Surreal for sure, but real nonetheless.

He felt his gut twist watching Ryota lose it like he was--he could only imagine how excruciating it was to relive the time that you single-handedly destroyed the lives of so many you cared about--but at the same time, he hadn’t said anything that outright admitted that he knew.

His mask was brought back up again.

“Huh? Mitarai-san, what’s wrong? You shouldn’t be scared to show me your work! I promise I won’t make fun of it!” Kokichi crossed his arms in a pout, waiting for Ryota to recover, but he only buried his face further into his knees and cried harder. Letting out a sigh, the preteen stood up, smoothing out his shirt.

“Ah, I’m sorry I made you upset... I’ll leave you alone, Mitarai-san. I’m going to go see if Uncle Kaz needs any help with anything.”

The purple-haired boy awkwardly stood up--the missing TV channel still up on the flatscreen--and watched Ryota pitifully for a moment before going to leave. As he reached the door, he heard the animator murmur something.

He turned his head, flyaways bouncing. “Huh? Mitarai-san?”

“Y-You’re just l-l--like him,” Ryota could barely speak, his voice small and eyes dazed as he lifted his head. His cheeks were wet with tears as he stared past Kokichi. “Y-You’re just like him. You’ll d-do anything to get answers, h-huh...?”

Kokichi furrowed his brow, opening the door. “Huh? I don’t understand, Mitarai-san.”

He deserved it. He was being a brat; his parents would have his head if they knew that he’d pretty much tortured the poor man to get indirect answers to his questions. However, the daggers in Ryota’s voice were enough to make Kokichi want to get one final dig.

It was raining outside, the sky gray and the air chilled. The prankster held a hand through the doorframe, droplets hitting his palm. He let out a hum, glancing back at the mourning man on the couch.

“It’s such a gloomy day outside, isn’t it, Mitarai-san?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR: ryota and kokichi hang out with ryota under the assumption that they're going to watch anime, but kokichi heavily hints that he knows about the jammed tv signal and the despair video. ryota obviously grows upset as he remembers things and kokichi leaves him alone; before he leaves, ryota tells kokichi that he is just like 'him' in the sense that he'll do anything to get the answers he wants.
> 
> ryota and kokichi do genuinely get along and care for each other bc all of the remnants are like family, but sometimes when you're upset you say things you don't mean.
> 
> okay!! thanks for reading!! one continuation error note--  
in fuyuhiko's chapter, ryota is hushed when he almost mentions the ultimates, hinting that kokichi wasn't meant to know about them. in peko's chapter, i originally had hajime casually mention to kokichi peko's ultimate, so i went back and changed that!! he no longer mentions it, only so that it's pretty shocking that kokichi brings it up so casually to mitarai.
> 
> i hope to have the next chapter out soon! thanks!! xx


	16. Hajime Hinata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hajime and kokichi talk about high schools.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! it feels like forever since i last updated, but i think it's only been 9 days? this chapter is 10 pages long!
> 
> we're drawing closer to the end; this will be the first long-length fanfiction i finished since deus ex machina in 2016. it'll be so refreshing to finish it!! but for now, it's not over yet.
> 
> TW: triggers, alcohol (but nothing bad! recreational drinking mentions)
> 
> enjoy xx

Kokichi was nearly falling asleep leaning against his dad; the man read the essay in silence, occasionally marking things with a pen as a note to go back to them when he was entirely finished.

He had finished this essay not even an hour before and he prayed Hajime couldn’t tell.

The brunet let out a hum, setting the paper down in his lap and capping his pen. Kokichi lifted his head as Hajime looked over at him, essay in hand.

“You just wrote this.” He said matter-of-factly. Kokichi swallowed, looking him right in the face.

“No I didn’t.”

His father’s eyebrows raised above his mismatched eyes and he hummed again, tucking the paper behind his back. His gaze was steady but Kokichi, not to be outmatched, stared right back with intent.

“You didn’t write about the Valley of Ashes at all. What does it symbolize and how is it important to the story?”

Big purple eyes glanced away in thought, mouth hung slightly open. His voice caught in his throat for a moment before he spoke.

“It... represents... the struggles of the lower class,” Kokichi bullshitted, not looking up at his father because he knew he was caught, “because the Wilsons lived in actual ash...?”

“Mhm. Yeah.” Hajime crossed his arms, unimpressed. “The Valley of Ashes symbolizes how the rich will do anything to seek their wealth even at the expense of the poor. This greed decays both the human condition as well as the environment around them.”

“...Oh,” was all Kokichi said, lifting his head and giving his dad puppy dog eyes in the hopes of a passing grade. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and he huffed. “Hey--what does it even matter for me to know this, anyway? We aren’t even American!”

“It keeps you well versed on cultures outside of our own.” Hajime stood up, stretching and grabbing the paper to take it to the filing cabinet in the corner. “That way you’ll be way smarter than the other kids in your classes. You’ll be better off that way.”

“Well--!” Kokichi slapped his palms against the bedspread, leaning forward in impatience. “Did I pass the essay?”

Hajime opened the right drawer and filed it away, silent for a moment.

“You got a C.”

“A  _ C??”  _

“Your Papa is going to have a bone to pick with you,” Hajime joked, standing back up, “He read Gatsby to you once and you read it by yourself again after that,  _ then  _ you read it for school and still procrastinated your paper? Kichi, you know all of this.”

Kokichi ducked his head, cheeks burning in embarrassment. It was true; he knew Gatsby like the back of his hand, but it had been a few years since he had read it and waited too long to have enough time to reread the whole thing. He heavily relied on the eyes of Dr. TJ Eckleberg and the green light to get him through it. Of course his Dad had caught on that he had procrastinated. Nothing slipped under his radar.

_ It was interesting to think of a time that anything may have slipped past him. Did such a time exist? _

Kokichi realized something odd that Hajime had said, and judging by the way Hajime lingered by the table in the corner--hovering overtop a folder and gazing at him expectantly--his father had been waiting for him to notice.

“Wait, Dad, did you say my class?”

A soft smile spread across his father’s face and he nodded. He picked up the folder and Kokichi felt his blood turn to ice; this couldn’t be true. In hindsight, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it was to him.

“Once we’re on the mainland, I’m not going to homeschool you anymore,” Hajime explained, bringing the folder over and sitting back down next to the teen, “there’s no need for me to.”

“Of course there’s a need!” Kokichi was slightly panicked and wasn’t able to hide it very well. He swallowed hard, grabbing at the seams of his pants. He saw his father’s gaze flick to his hands momentarily before looking back up at him, eyes gentle. Hajime kept the folder in his lap, leaving it unopened.

“Kokichi, you’ve lived on this island your entire life. We’re the only people you know.” Hajime put an arm around his son’s shoulders, the gentle pressure only slightly calming. “You need to make friends your age; you can’t do that if you stay sheltered like you are here.”

“But I don’t need friends! I’m learning things just fine with you teaching me; I can make friends once I graduate and get a job or something!” Kokichi had no clue why this bothered him as much as it did, but his throat felt constricted and tears pricked his eyes. He had depended on his parents and the Future Foundation for literally everything he’d ever known; the thought of them letting him loose even a little bit--and the thought of truly growing up--scared him badly.

Hajime laughed lightly and kissed Kokichi’s temple. “Oh, stop. It sounds scary, sure, but you’ll be just fine, I promise.” The brunet nudged the folder in his son’s hands. “Do you want to check out your school? There’s all sorts of information in there.”

Kokichi felt his heart skip in his chest; the folder was plain black on the outside, so the high school inside could have been  _ any  _ school. Though he tried to deny it in the back of his mind, a sliver of excitement inside him prayed for Hope’s Peak--maybe if he went there, he’d better understand the documents that he had stolen.

Much to his disappointment, the papers that stared back at him when he opened the folder were lacking the infamous black and white insignia. 

“Imperial...?” He tried to hide the downtroddenness of his voice. His father nodded, reaching over him to pull a packet out of the folder for him.

“Yes. Your father and I spent hours researching which high school we felt would be good enough for you. We didn’t want you going somewhere so big that it would overwhelm you, but we also wanted you to go to a school of a decent size so you could meet lots of new people.” The man chuckled, skimming through the packet for a specific page. He seemed to be indifferent to the boy fighting off tears next to him. “We may have gotten into it a couple of times; nothing too major, though. I wanted you to go to a regular old high school, but your Papa insisted on charters or privates or academies. You can tell we grew up in different environments--”

“--Didn’t you say you met Papa in high school?” Kokichi interrupted him, squeezing his fists in his lap. He didn’t want to cry. He wanted to stay homeschooled, but he would have at least settled for Hope’s Peak. “Why can’t I go to the high school that you met at?”

“We didn’t go to the same school,” Hajime furrowed his brow in confusion and his response was almost instant; Kokichi cursed him for being such a talented liar. “We met through a mutual friend of ours.”

“Well--what high schools did you go to, then?”  _ I’m not above making this an interrogation if it means I can get you to slip. _

“I went to Kodaka and he went to Spiral? That doesn’t matter.” Hajime continued to leaf through the packet. “Neither of those schools are standing anymore.”

“Why?” Kokichi asked, but felt himself flinch in realization that he was treading too close to telling on himself. He quickly added, “Isn’t Naegi-san headmaster for a school? Why can’t I go there?”

Hajime’s jaw hardened and his gaze sharpened on the papers in his lap. Kokichi immediately regretted saying anything--he was terrified that they were about to have a conversation that Kokichi never wanted to have--but his father folded the packet page and set it down.

“Nagito and I discussed Hope’s Peak,” Hajime’s voice sounded on edge, but if Kokichi hadn’t been aware of the secrets that the school had held, he would have never noticed, “that was the main school that we fought about.”

“You two actually argued?” Kokichi softened a bit, his heart sinking to his feet. His parents were notorious for their amicable marriage and lack of confrontation. The thought of the two of them yelling at each other made his eyes sting.

Hajime nodded. “Because this is such a big decision and we love you. We want what’s best for you.” The man ran a hand through his brown hair, mismatched eyes diverted from his son momentarily. “I don’t think Hope’s Peak would be good for you, but your Papa insisted that it would be great. I’m glad you couldn’t hear us; this was late at night so everything else was fairly quiet.”

Kokichi’s father swallowed, picking the packet back up and turning to face the boy, trying to signal that he wanted to be done talking about it. “After a couple of hours, I was able to convince him that someplace else would be best. He thought I was worried about tuition and was going to spend all of his inheritance for you. We both picked Imperial--it was a joint decision and we really think it’s the best one.”

He knew his father was nudging the packet in his hands because he wanted him to read this specific page, but Kokichi wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Why don’t you think Hope’s Peak would be good?” Kokichi asked, and he saw his father’s expression fall, exhaustion clear on his face. “I would be more comfortable there with Naegi around than some random school--”

“--Because. Looking at statistics and things, it wouldn’t be best suited for you; you excel much further in literature and language and their test scores don’t match up well enough.”

_ Bullshit. Excelling at something is the whole point. _

“But I don’t care!” Kokichi was really pushing it, but he truly felt like everything was crashing down on him. “I don’t care if you think it’s good enough for me! I don’t mind if I wind up being a little smarter than everyone else!”

Something dawned on Kokichi, leading the boy to flick big purple eyes up and look at his father, who stared back in visible bother.

“Or... is that not... the case...?” The teen’s voice was small as he glanced away. “Do you not think I’m good enough...?”

It was true that his parents were incredibly smart--apparently his Daddy hadn’t done too well in school, but you would never be able to tell because of how intelligent he was now. His Papa had excelled with literature as his strong suit.

Kokichi, however, always managed to scrape by. He did alright on English assignments (mainly because his Papa had been reading to him before he could even talk), but as of late he had been losing motivation and doing worse and worse. Math was a joke, and no matter how many hours of tutoring Hajime tried to give him, he never seemed to grasp anything that would amount to anything greater than a C+ at most.

Hajime seemed at a loss for words for a moment. Kokichi had only been half-serious in that question--using it as a way to pry more information--but part of him also felt that way, and seeing his Dad react like he did made him want to throw up.

_ Wait... do you really think I’m...? _

His father finally spoke, wetting his lips with his tongue and averting his gaze awkwardly. “No, Kichi, that’s not--”

“--Hope’s Peak has to do with talent, though, right? I overheard him say that once.” That was a lie. Kokichi felt tears begin to slip down his cheeks and watched his Daddy’s expression visibly soften in guilt, reaching out to wipe them away. “Do you not think I’m talented?”

“Kokichi, please,” Hajime was quiet, tucking purple hair behind his ear. "It used to, but it doesn't anymore--"

“--You don’t have to be talented to go to Hope’s Peak!” Kokichi blurted, vision blurred by tears. “There’s the Reserve Course--”

_ “--Kokichi, stop.”  _ Hajime drew his hands close to the side of his head, jaw set again and eyes squeezed shut. He swallowed hard, arms slightly shaking. “Stop.”

Kokichi sniffled and wiped at his cheeks for a few minutes while he and his father sat in silence. Hajime’s posture was stiff next to him as he struggled with memories of things he had tried to forget; Kokichi could only imagine what those memories were, but he didn’t even consider that mentioning the Reserves would have triggered his Dad. He felt terrible, his tears falling harder as he wrapped an arm around Hajime’s. As far as he knew, his father didn’t know that he knew about the Tragedy, so he prayed that he thought of the entire situation as an accident. In a way, it was--he hadn’t meant to upset him.

After a while, Hajime slid Kokichi’s hand in his and squeezed, putting his other shaking hand overtop. He swallowed again before letting his son go, standing up. His knees cracked and he winced in pain; this made Kokichi’s heart fall just a bit more. He didn’t like the idea of his parents growing older. Hajime had gray hair beginning to cluster around his temples and his Papa’s hair was already beginning to go white again.

He didn’t like the idea of living without his parents one day. That was why he was so scared for them to start letting him go, even if it was little by little.

Hajime rubbed his face, gesturing at the black folder in Kokichi’s lap. “Look over that if you want. I’m... done trying for now. Sorry.” The boy sat on the bed and watched, sniffling still, as his father slid his shoes on.

It was rare for either of his parents to part from him without giving him a hug at least--almost always with a kiss on the cheek--but Hajime just left the cottage without saying a word. He shut the door quietly behind him, leaving his son sitting on his bed in stunned silence.

Kokichi set the folder on the quilt beside him, feeling all of his limbs trembling in approaching panic. He hadn’t meant to upset him. He hated seeing his parents upset.

The teen laid back against the pillows, the covers smelling heavily of both of his dads; he wrapped his arms around himself and cried himself to sleep.

It hadn’t been intentional, but clearly he needed a nap, he supposed; he awoke when the room was dark, blinds still open. Kokichi sat up, head throbbing, and went over to shut the blinds. A quick glance at the digital clock at his parents’ bedside showed that it was nearly 8 at night and the cottage showed no signs of his dads ever coming in while he was asleep.

The teen’s eyes were still swollen as he flicked the lights on, hair mussed and mouth sticky with sleep. He wandered into the bathroom to brush his teeth (his parents still kept a toothbrush for him, why, he had no clue) and make himself more presentable. His flyaways still stuck out once he was done, but he didn’t mind; his anxiety was still lingering, and a finger twirled into the flyaways to comfort himself.

He was nervous but still picked the folder up from where it had fallen on the floor during his nap. Slipping his shoes on, Kokichi locked his parents’ cottage behind him, en route to the beach.

His fathers had been talking about the others wanting to throw parties on the beach every night leading up to their departure in a week; it was unlikely they’d all ever return to Jabberwock again, so they wanted to enjoy the tropical climate as much as they could. Kokichi wasn’t sure if his Daddy would be there if he was still struggling with the trauma Kokichi accidentally dug up, but if his Papa had wanted to go, chances were he was dragged along.

There were torches lit and spiked into the sand, towels and blankets spread across the beach as some sat atop them and talked while others swam in the ocean. Those on land had plates piled with food, laughing and drinking and enjoying everyone’s company. 

Kokichi caught sight of Teruteru standing behind a makeshift bar, toying with different ratios of alcohol, juices, and soda, making Kazuichi test all of them out.

The boy went over, slipping his shoes off before he hit the sand, the cold texture feeling good on his feet. Kazuichi lit up when he noticed him and waved; his cheeks were red, likely from the alcohol.

“Hey, Kokichi! What’s up?” His Uncle patted his back roughly in greeting and Kokichi smiled gently, hugging the folder close to his chest. He flicked his gaze over to the chef.

“Hanamura-san, you know how to mix drinks too?” Kokichi was surprised; was there an ‘Ultimate Bartender’ talent or was it grouped in with the culinary talents? He furrowed his brow at himself--that couldn’t make sense, because why would the Ultimate Confectioner or Ultimate Baker know how to mix drinks?

“Ah, dearest Kokichi, I am testing things out!” Teruteru exclaimed, smile bright and reflecting the light of the torches. Somehow, he was sober. “I think I’m getting the hang of things; everyone seems to enjoy them!”

Kokichi had been invited to this party too, of course, which meant that his parents wouldn’t drink themselves drunk. The others never really cared and would drink as they saw fit (of course; why wouldn’t they?), but he knew his fathers had a rule that at least one of them would stay aware enough to be there for Kokichi if he needed it. It was always nice.

“Have you seen my dads?” Kokichi asked, and Kazuichi nodded, taking a shot of whatever Teruteru had given him. 

The pink-haired man let out a whoop, touching his throat.  _ “Damn,  _ Teruteru, that fuckin’  _ burns!”  _ He turned to his nephew, putting a hand on his shoulder to turn him and point in the direction. Kokichi caught sight of them. “They’re underneath the palms over there.”

“Thank you, Uncle Kaz,” Kokichi smiled, Kazuichi giving him a thumbs up before the teen wandered away, feet shuffling in the sand. His parents sat on a blanket (not one Kokichi recognized, so it must have been borrowed) with their backs to the palm tree. Nagito had an arm around Hajime, who leant into his shoulder with his eyes closed as they both talked quietly to each other. They seemed content, a small smile on his Papa’s face, and a drink in both of their hands.

His Papa saw him first, smiling and setting the glass down next to him. Out of pure luck, it didn’t fall over from the unevenness of the sand. “Hi, Kichi,” he greeted, Hajime opening his eyes and lifting his head.

“Hi,” Kokichi sat in front of them, Nagito drawing his legs back so he could sit closer. Hajime took a drink, waggling his fingers at his son with the glass to his lips, but he said nothing else. The purple-haired boy ducked his head, heart thumping against his ribs, and he pressed the folder even harder to his chest.

“Um, I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he finally said, catching his Dad’s mismatched gaze, “for making you upset. I didn’t mean to.”

Hajime sighed, a tired smile on his face, as he set his drink next to him. It tilted in the sand and his Papa was quick to reach around his husband and catch it before it spilled, winking knowingly at Hajime as he set it by his drink instead.

“It’s alright, Kokichi, you didn’t mean to.” Hajime reached out with an open palm, Kokichi putting his hand in his, and his fingers closed around the small hand and squeezed. “It’s alright.”

Nagito said nothing, arm still around his husband, watching carefully. Kokichi didn’t want to acknowledge that his Dad probably explained what had happened, because the idea of disappointing both of them in one night made him sick to his stomach.

Tears pricked the teen’s eyes and his lower lip quivered; his parents’ expressions fell and Hajime reached out, swiping a thumb underneath the purple lash line.

“No, no, please don’t cry,” Hajime smelled of alcohol, but he was only buzzed; he sat up on his knees to reach across and wrap his son in a hug, the boy hiding his face in the crook of his shoulder. “It’s said and it’s done. Don’t cry.”

The folder fell between them when Kokichi hugged him back. Nagito, unable to stop himself, joined in on the hug, holding both of his boys and rubbing his son’s back as the teen fought off tears again. Everyone around them seemed to be oblivious and Kokichi was fine with that.

Eventually, Kokichi pulled away and his dads backed off, sitting back on their heels and watching him expectantly. The boy sighed, palming at his eye and lifting the folder up, setting it in the middle of all three of them.

“Will you talk to me about Imperial?” He asked quietly, and his parents smiled. They grabbed their drinks again and gestured for their son to come closer so they could page through the packets together.

Kokichi decided that figuring out the secrets that his parents held weren’t worth upsetting them for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love gatsby. i read it once when i was 13 just for fun and then once for class, but i ALSO acted out a scene for my theatre appreciation class junior year. i was daisy. every once and a while a theatre company around here does it; i'd love to audition some day.
> 
> kodaka and spiral were the legitimate high schools hajime and nagito respectively belonged to before they went to hope's peak! imperial is also kokichi's high school.
> 
> i'm praying to finish this up really really soon! keep an eye on your inboxes!
> 
> thanks for reading xx


	17. Nekomaru Nidai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kokichi "runs into" nekomaru, who wants to talk to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter out quick!! the next chapters are the ones i've been looking forward to for moooooonths, so i hope they come out just as quick!
> 
> enjoy xx

Kokichi could hardly see above the pile of laundry in the basket he was carrying, but he managed to shuffle along the docks and by the poolside without tripping. He swept his arms out from underneath him once he reached the laundry room, letting out a loud groan. (It may have been overdramatic, but at least nobody was around to hear it.)

Everyone was busy packing, but his parents had suggested washing all of his clothes before packing them so they didn’t have to worry about it once they were moved in. Kokichi didn’t mind; he didn’t have any plans today, anyway.

The washing machine was almost too tall for him to reach the knobs, but the teen was able to flip the lid open and throw all of his clothes in before flipping the basket upside down and stepping on top of it. He pulled the right knobs and poured the detergent and softener in before letting the lid fall, the sound of metal clanging loud in his ears. He hopped off of the basket and set it in the corner, figuring he could leave it there until he eventually took his things out of the dryer.

It was crazy to think that they were leaving in five days. He had spent his entire life here and in five days he would never return again.

Kokichi pushed the door open, welcoming the sun on his skin and the warm summer air. There was a slight breeze.

Everyone had their cottage doors open, talking with one another across the docks as they all packed their less important things first. There was laughter and reminiscence and bittersweet conversations being shared; Kokichi enjoyed the togetherness that came with it.

The teen went back to his cottage, popping into his parents’ momentarily to see what they were doing. His Papa had their photo albums pulled out to pack and was thumbing through them, insisting on showing Kokichi every single one, teary-eyed as he recounted the memories they’d made as the boy was growing up. It had been his Dad that got Nagito to let Kokichi leave so he could keep packing, but not without a suggestion to enjoy the warm tropical air while he still could.

Kokichi had already packed up a good deal of his things. The first to get put away were his childhood plushies; Kokichi had sat on his floor with Shirokuma and Kurokuma in his lap for a long while, inspecting their worn faces with a solemn sort weight in his chest. He had put them away a long time ago, but pulling them back out to properly pack them made old memories bubble to the surface. He remembered tea parties with Sonia and making his parents play with them with him and sleeping smothered with them. They were sentimental to him but still didn’t carry the same value that Monomi did.

The teen still left her out as he packed everything away, sitting on top of his pillows and watching in silence as the familiar bedroom became less and less personalized. Shelves were cleared, dressers were emptied, and pictures were taken off the walls and packed into boxes that the Future Foundation had provided them. Thankfully, there was enough so that nobody had to leave anything behind; only the island itself.

Figuring it had been a minute since he’d put the laundry in, Kokichi wandered back out to put them in the dryer. Nekomaru and Hajime were out on the docks, laughing together about something. They waved to him as he passed and Kokichi noted that the Coach had a basket in his arms; he was glad he left when he did so Nekomaru could put his in the washer once he was done. His purple hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat from the heat and constant moving around. 

When the teen went back into the laundry room, he was pleased to find that the washer was done. He propped up his basket to use as a stool again and began to pull everything out. As he was doing this, the door opened and Nekomaru entered, basket balanced on his shoulder as he shut the door behind him.

Kokichi turned his head, smiling gently. “Hi, Nidai-san,” he greeted, continuing to pull his laundry out.

“Hey, Kokichi!” Nekomaru’s grin was always contagious, his positivity radiating off of him like sunlight. He set his basket down, standing close by and waiting patiently for the teen to finish with the washer.

“How’s your packing going? Alright?” He was always so loud, but it was easy to tell when he was at least attempting to quiet down. Kokichi nodded, hopping off of the basket, damp laundry in his arms. 

“It’s going good,” he said, nudging the basket with his foot so it would flip, “I don’t have much more to do. My dads told me to wash all my stuff before I packed it, so this is pretty much it.”

Nekomaru nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I procrastinated a little bit, but that’s alright; I was helping others organize their stuff, so I guess it wasn’t all in vain.”

Kokichi tossed the wet things in the basket and pushed it aside so Nekomaru could move in. He did, and the two began to mess with their respective machines in silence.

After a moment, Nekomaru cleared his throat. “So, your Dad told me you’re going to go to high school. Are you excited?”

The teen’s mood instantly fell and he found himself slightly irritated. Rolling his eyes and letting out a sigh, he tossed some laundry into the dryer before turning, expression tired. “Did he put you up to this?”

_ Ultimate Team Manager. He probably thinks he’ll give me a pep talk or something. _

Nekomaru’s brow furrowed and he tipped his head, but the hesitation in his voice told Kokichi he was right on the money. “...No,” he began, crossing his arms, “I was just curious as all. Going from homeschooling to regular schooling is a big change. How do you feel about it?”

Kokichi groaned quietly, going back to finishing his laundry. There was no escaping this.

“Not really thrilled about it.” The teen mumbled.

“Why not?” Nekomaru turned the knob and began to pour out the detergent. “It’ll be good for you! You can make friends and join clubs and do all sorts of things you can’t here.”

_ How many of these words are yours and how many are my Dad’s?  _ “Because I’m just fine with my homeschooling. I’m doing alright without friends my age right now.” Kokichi grit his teeth, pulling the lint catch out of its slot. “It’s going to be stressful enough moving to the mainland; that’s enough change for me for a while. I don’t want to have to deal with this on top of that.”

“High school is an amazing experience, though, Kokichi!” Nekomaru stopped to turn to him, but the teen kept doing what he was doing. “They often refer to high school as the best four years of your life. It’s true!”

Kokichi slit his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. Anybody with a decent ability to see through liars would have been able to tell that Nekomaru was lying regardless, but on top of Kokichi’s talent, he was also able to tell he was lying through his teeth because he knew for a  _ fact  _ that the 77th class had a terrible high school experience. Kokichi would hardly call “witnessing your friend’s gruesome death and becoming slaves to a wicked, maniacal woman” an amazing experience.

But he had to forget. He vowed to return the documents before they left. He didn’t want to think about their contents anymore and he wanted to forget that he’d ever even found them. He desperately wanted to believe Nekomaru and wanted to believe that the coach had those amazing experiences he wanted Kokichi to look forward to.

Kokichi nearly choked on the lump in his throat that clotted like starch. He threw away the lint from the trap and put it back in its slot, smiling as best as he could at Nekomaru.

“Do they really?” Maybe if he humored him, he would go back to Hajime and tell him that Kokichi had a change of heart. 

Even this seemed to make the man light up as he began to toss his clothes into the washer. “Yes! They call it that be _ cause  _ of the friends you make and the clubs you join. There’s all sorts of things you can do once you’re there. You can’t knock it ‘till you try it, kid!”

Kokichi shrugged, suddenly exasperated. He wanted to go back into his cottage and lay on top of the covers and sleep the day away. “I guess that doesn’t sound too bad. I guess I’m just nervous about fitting in.”

Nekomaru nodded and hummed. “Yeah, that makes sense. New environment. You’d be surprised how many other kids feel the same way you do, though.”

The teen blinked, purple eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he looked at his feet. The coach continued, “It’s scary, I know. It’s scary even for kids who didn’t live on an island their entire lives. But that’s just part of growing up; sometimes you’ve got to put yourself in uncomfortable situations for your benefit in the long run.”

Kokichi shrugged, moving again to twist the right dials on the dryer. “I know...”

Nekomaru watched him silently for a moment as the teen stiffly continued what he was doing. A small grin spread across the man’s face and he leaned against the top of the washer.

“You just don’t wanna grow up, huh?”

The boy’s lips made a thin line and the coach chuckled. “I take it I guessed right, then?”

Kokichi started the dryer and stepped back, twirling his hair in his finger. “Is that bad?”

“No.” Nekomaru’s chain jingled around his neck as he shook his head. “It’s completely normal. But you need to understand that even though you’re getting older, you’re still a young kid.”

“I’m  _ not  _ though,” Kokichi countered, fists balled in front of him, “I’m becoming an adult now and Dad and Papa think so too and that’s why they’re trying to get me to go. But I don’t want to go and I don’t want to move to the mainland and I just want to stay here.”

Nekomaru was silent for a moment, processing this. “The mainland is intimidating for all of us, but I would imagine you have it the worst because you’ve never been there. It’s really amazing, Kokichi, I promise.” He hummed in thought. “Also, you probably aren’t going to believe me no matter how many times I tell you, but you’re young. You’re still a baby. Your parents are just trying to give you a little bit of freedom and slowly wean you off of their direct support, so to speak. Trust me, it’s just as hard for them as it is for you, but it’s something that has to be done eventually. Otherwise, once you really  _ are  _ an adult, how are you going to know how to take care of yourself?”

Kokichi supposed he had a point. He sheepishly stood there and reviewed all of this in his mind as Nekomaru stayed quiet, the only sounds being the dryer starting up and the water running in the washer.

“I’m sure Nagito was in tears over this several times,” Nekomaru laughed, “Not to say your Dad wasn’t, either, but Nagito is infamous for doting on you a little more than he should. We all tease him, like,  _ shit, give the kid a little bit of space!  _ We can’t really blame him, though; they had to fight tooth and nail to get you, so the guy just wants to cherish what he has, that’s all.”

This made Kokichi smile. It was true; ever since he was a baby, Nagito was always a tad more clingy and protective than Hajime had been. It wasn’t that Hajime  _ wasn’t,  _ but Nagito’s way of loving was so extreme that it came off as too strong sometimes. It always came in handy when the boy needed a hug or a kiss to feel better because his Papa was always there to give him twenty.

Of course that wouldn’t change. He felt somewhat dumb for worrying about it.

“You don’t have to force yourself to grow apart from them just because you’re growing up a little,” Nekomaru assured him, giving him a wink, “If you continue to love them just as hard as you do now even as you get older, do you realize how happy they’d be?”

Kokichi’s heart was light in his chest. High school couldn’t be bad. If his parents insisted it really wasn’t, then it wasn’t. They wouldn’t put him in danger; of course not.

Of course not.

The teen nodded, swallowing hard. “You’re right,” he finally admitted, smiling, “it’s really not as big of a deal as it feels.”

“Oh, it’s a huge deal!” Nekomaru held up a finger. “But nothing devastating. Just another chapter in life.”

Kokichi pushed his basket off against the wall and noted what time it was so he could return in enough time to get his laundry out. “Thanks for talking to me, Nidai-san. I actually feel a lot better.”

The coach let out a huge laugh, slapping a hand on Kokichi’s back. “It’s no problem, kid! I’m glad you’re feeling better now. You can talk to me anytime.”

The boy went to the door and pushed it open, but he was stopped before he could leave.

“Hey, Kokichi?”

Kokichi turned, looking back at the coach. The man wore a mischievous grin.

“Say for some reason that your Dad  _ did  _ put me up to this. You said you feel much better.”

Another wink.

“Your parents know best.”

Kokichi grinned back, quietly impressed at how easy it was for Hajime to influence him indirectly, and left the laundry room without another word.


	18. Izuru Kamukura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kokichi goes to return the documents to the ruins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i had gotten a sudden burst of inspiration and just kept GOING until i hit the end of the chapter, so forgive me for inconsistencies or slight oocness.
> 
> this was a chapter i've been looking forward to ever since i started!! this one and the next two.
> 
> TW: depictions of violence, emetophobia, panic attacks, blood
> 
> enjoy!! xx

It was cold, and Kokichi was wishing he’d worn a coat, but it was too late now. He (carefully) forced his way through the weak part of the chain link, successfully winding up on the ruin grounds.

His heart was high in his throat as he hurried around the side of the building to the broken window. He supposed it was a little too late to worry about cameras now; what would the Future Foundation actually do if they caught him? Hopefully they wouldn’t change their minds about letting everyone leave in two days.

Kokichi cursed under his breath as he reached the window. He hadn’t snuck inside of the grounds since he had stolen the documents all those years ago--he should have considered that the window would have been repaired like it was, double-paned and thick.  _ But why?  _ He thought,  _ It’s an old, ruined building anyway. _

He didn’t  _ have  _ to return the documents on the Remnants of Despair. He could just turn and leave and that could be that, but Kokichi desperately wanted to leave them behind. He wanted to forget that he ever read them and be able to look at his parents the way he used to, back when he was innocent and unknowing and thought his Papa’s amputation was a result of his illness.

He didn’t want to destroy the documents, per se, because then the Foundation would know they were tampered with. 

Kokichi  _ had  _ to return the documents, so he hoped and prayed that the windows weren’t protected by an alarm.

There was a cinderblock nearby. The teen tucked the folded documents between his teeth and bent down to pick it up, scratchy and dirty on his palms. Closing his eyes and giving one last wishful thought, Kokichi wound his arms back, chucking the concrete into the glass.

The first pane shattered loudly, shards exploding everywhere and making the teen step back and protect his face with his forearm. He had to jump back to protect his feet from being crushed by the cinderblock as it hit the ground, clouds of dust from the dirt choking him. Kokichi quickly listened for the sound of an alarm, and upon hearing silence, he picked the block back up. He pulled his arms back and tossed it into the window again, the second pane giving way and allowing the cinderblock to fall onto the dusty tiled floor, cracking and shattering the vinyl. Kokichi was quick to dust away the window frame, shards of glass painfully sticking into his palms as he slid through.

His feet hit the tile hard and pain spiraled through his ankles. He winced, looking down at his palms to check in, and found that they were covered in blood. Kokichi hissed and wiped them on his pants (he’d have to throw these away; there was no way he could wash them before anybody could see them). Using the very tips of his fingers, he took the folded papers out of his mouth and tucked them into his waistband, staring straight ahead down the dark hallway.

Kokichi’s footsteps were quick yet quiet; he walked on the balls of his feet and knew right where he was going. Judging by what he had read, this building was likely an exact replica of the old Hope’s Peak High School, which was the  _ real  _ place his parents had met at despite their insistence that it was someplace else. There were some things that still didn’t quite make sense--his Dad had been a Reserve Course student (which he for some reason felt very strongly about) and his Papa had been in the Main Course. If his Dad didn’t have a talent, then why did Kokichi grow up listening to all of the Remnants praising Hajime for being good at literally anything he tried? They had also told him that they met when they were sophomores in high school, but the records Kokichi had clearly showed that his Dad’s student file didn’t exist at that point because he had dropped out as a  _ freshman.  _ There were several papers Kokichi had found solely focused on Hajime Hinata, but much to his disappointment, most were grades or reports. There was a single mention of him partaking in an experiment, but Kokichi found nothing else on it and didn’t want to find them.

He didn’t like being lied to. He knew there had to be something else to this, but the years taken away in his childhood where he didn’t trust his own parents weren’t worth it. Kokichi wanted to forgive and forget and start clean on the mainland. He wanted them to tell them the lies they insisted on telling them over and over again so that he might start believing them again.

The office was hidden away on the third floor, likely to prevent anyone from easily finding it if they slipped away during a Future Foundation meeting. Kokichi opened the door and saw that the room was exactly as it had been when he left it four years ago. This eased his anxiety slightly--nobody likely even noticed these papers were gone.

Kokichi was quick to move to the cabinet, the documents burning a hole in his pocket. He wanted them gone.

He couldn’t quite remember what organizer he found them in, but he was determined to put them exactly where he found them. He was carding through quickly, hitting the second drawer from the bottom, and felt his heart skip. This was it. 

Kokichi began pulling out thick manilla folders and practically tossing them aside. He needed to find the right one.

They were labelled neatly, but he couldn’t find the Remnant folder. There were documents on student files of the 77th class (he forced himself to ignore), an investigation held at Hope’s Peak (which he had to try even harder to ignore), and an entire folder on Junko Enoshima. He could practically feel the years of trauma on his fingertips as he threw them aside. These folders held the answers to the secrets he had been searching for ever since he pulled the other documents. He didn’t even care about keeping their order intact, breathing heavy and fighting off tears and the urge to read them all right there on the cold, dirty floor. 

He needed to be at peace. His family deserved to be loved hard without judgement from someone who never needed to know anything. He should have never snooped around.

A folder caught his eye. “The First Killing Game of the Student Council.” 

Killing game?

The words made Kokichi’s blood go ice cold and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Killing game. Murders? That were committed... for fun...? Is that what it meant?

He couldn’t fight it.

He wished he had.

Gruesome images--the Remnant file hadn’t had  _ any  _ pictures, but this one was almost exclusive--were blown up to full 8x10 sizes as if they were once evidence. Bloodied bodies mutilated and torn and destroyed beyond recognition. There were close-ups of their faces frozen in screams with glazed over eyes and tears still wet on their cheeks. There was an outlier, Kokichi noticed, who wasn’t shown but mentioned in the few typed pages present in this folder. He had been the sole survivor, Izuru Kamukura.

Kokichi had read that name before--he had been the founder of Hope’s Peak--but he wasn’t particularly focused on it at the moment. His stomach lurched at the sight of a man who had allegedly been ripped apart by a chainsaw, and he kicked the folder away as he clamped a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t do it. He shouldn’t have looked.

Questions swirled his mind. “First” killing game? There had been more?  _ Why? _

He dry heaved, praying that he wouldn’t vomit right here, because then DNA evidence would be left behind. Maybe if he left the room a mess they could have just blamed it on raccoons or something; if he got sick, it would be concrete evidence against him.

It was almost like a bad car accident. Kokichi knew he needed to leave immediately, but he couldn’t keep himself from crawling over to the mess of folders he’d thrown over his shoulder. His arms were trembling as he picked them up, inspecting their names. “Future Foundation Killing Game”, “The Izuru Kamukura Project”, “Killing Game of the 77th Class”.

That didn’t make sense. Bile was in the back of Kokichi’s throat as he tore that folder out of the bunch, tossing it on the ground to open the manilla. There were lots of typed documents, but what caught Kokichi’s eye were the photos. They weren’t as high quality as the council pictures--they appeared to be taken on a monitor of some sort--but what they showed was plain as day.

Mahiru, head bashed in and bloodied as she laid slumped against a door (to which Kokichi identified as the beach house). Gundham, trampled to death on the beach. Hiyoko, tied to a post with her throat torn out, blood splattered all over the front of the tape holding her there.

There was a picture of Nagito--his Papa--brutally tortured, eyes and mouth blown open in a scream, a spear straight through his stomach.

Kokichi let out a bloodcurdling scream that faded into a sob, scuttling backwards and slamming his back against the cabinet. He grabbed at his hair and pulled, shaking his head as he tried to unsee it. It was burned against the inside of his eyelids. His Papa was clearly dead in that picture. He was tortured and killed for some sick, stupid game.

His throat tugged against his tongue and he gagged, unable to fight it off this time around. He desperately crawled to an open spot on the floor and got sick, crying through it the entire time.

He should have never looked. He could have just burned the documents he had hidden inside of Monomi. No matter how hard he tried, he would never forget those images. He’d live with that for the rest of his life.

Even after his stomach was empty, he still kept heaving, and his mind was swirling the entire time. It still didn’t make sense. It was twisted and sick and Kokichi was devastated, but the Remnants obviously weren’t dead. He was positive he wasn’t dreaming because his hands were still bleeding from the glass and he felt the burning in his throat. He was also positive that the people pictured were completely fine. Mahiru’s head was normal shaped and Gundham wasn’t crushed and Hiyoko didn’t have a scar on her throat. His parents would take him to the beach all the time, and if he happened to glance at Nagito’s belly, not a single trace of a scar lingered. (Although he knew his Papa had scars on his thighs, they were straight cuts, not multiple penetrations.)

It wasn’t like he could ask his parents for the answers. He had to keep going.

Kokichi forced himself to crawl back over (avoiding the mess he’d made) and look through the 77th folder again. He caught glimpses of stab wounds and crushed limbs and even a suicide that he was thankful he couldn’t identify. He could hardly hold the papers in his trembling hands as he leafed through the documents, tears clouding his vision as he quietly sobbed. Kokichi was able to pull out information that stated that the killing game was virtual and that all participants survived; the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. (It didn’t really ‘make sense’, but it was an answer Kokichi was willing to accept.) He hiccuped and palmed at his eyes, smearing blood across his cheeks on accident. He was tired and hurting in multiple ways and just wanted to go home. He wanted to go to his parents’ cottage and not tell them what happened but still lay with them until he fell asleep. His Papa would kiss his cheeks and wipe his tears away with his thumb and his Dad would ruffle his hair and gently talk him down from his panic attack. They would make it okay.

Even though he had already had way more than enough of this, one final answer was eating at him that he had to find.

Izuru Kamukura was the mastermind of the killing game his Papa had been mutilated in. Where was he? Kokichi wanted to bash his head in for ever putting his family in such a sickening situation.

The founder of Hope’s Peak. What would he ever gain out of putting on killing games? Why was he  _ part  _ of the student council game? Had he been the one killing them?

Kokichi felt like he was going to pass out from hysteria and weakness but still rooted around for the Kamukura Project folder, whimpering and sniffling as he sat back on his heels, folder in his lap. This one was mostly documents, but a few pictures were inside, and tears steadily streamed down the flushed cheeks of the teen boy.

Izuru Kamukura was an artificial human created by scientists deep in the basement of Hope’s Peak. He required a vessel and they used a dropout as his basis, deleting any indications of the dropout’s personality or any sign that he ever existed. They experimented on his body and picked his brain apart and Kamukura bloomed in his place.

That was horrifying as it was, but what terrified Kokichi the most was the fact that side by side pictures existed, and the ‘before’ pictures were of his teenage father.

Kokichi couldn’t breathe. He looked at the documents again, pleading and pleading for them to have made a mistake, but his name was there hundreds of times. Hajime Hinata, the Reserve Course dropout, had been the volunteer for the Kamukura Project, and--according to the abstracts of the papers inside--was pretty much dead. Kamukura held none of his memories and had his own personality instead--or rather a lack of one. Hajime Hinata hadn’t existed since he was fifteen years old.

But his name was in the 77th Killing Game file. He had to have existed.

The teen was gasping for air, chest heaving in denial. He  _ knew  _ his Dad and his Dad didn’t look like this. His Dad had spiky chestnut hair and mismatched eyes and a personality, not long black tendrils for hair and bright red eyes and a flat expression. He wasn’t scared of his Dad like he was of the entity that was shown in the pictures. Kamukura hadn’t raised him, he was certain.

He was certain.

He wanted to be certain, but he wasn’t.

A final side-by-side comparison of their faces was on the final page of the first packet. They had the same facial structure. The only thing different was their hair and their eyes. Kokichi still refused this, but upon noticing a specific detail, he felt his heart plummet and a lump form in his throat.

The Hajime Hinata that was pictured had green eyes and Izuru Kamukura had ruby red ones. Something that Kokichi always favored in his Daddy was his heterochromia--one eye was green and the other was red.

Kokichi’s breath hitched again and he buried his face in his hands, screaming at the top of his lungs and muffling it with his palms. He sobbed and sobbed and let his head smack against the back of the cabinet, hoping it would knock him out (it didn’t). This was a mistake. It was a mistake to come back to the ruins and it was a mistake to ever think he needed to take the documents in the first place.

He felt lied to. He had been so secure in himself and his family and their friends and where everyone came from. He was positive that the worst injury his Papa ever faced was his amputation and he was positive that his Daddy’s name was Hajime Hinata. He had been so, so sure.

Kokichi swallowed, sobbing still as he looked down at the mess of documents and photos beneath him. This was a nightmare. He just wanted to leave.

He rubbed his temples, trying to gather his thoughts and pull himself out of his negativity, but anytime he tried he just sunk deeper.

That meant his Daddy was the mastermind of the game the Remnants killed each other in. He had thought about how badly he wanted to hurt him for ever hurting his Papa.

Kokichi began to gag again, but there was movement out of the corner of his eye. He lifted his head, heart stopping as he looked at the doorway, positive he was caught by the Foundation.

Instead of a Future Foundation member, his Dad stood there instead, unreadable expression on his face as he watched Kokichi. He seemed distressed over the things strewn across the floor but was more focused on the crumpled heap that the teen had become.

Kokichi opened his mouth to speak and it was sticky. Tears flowed down his cheeks and stung his eyes and he nearly threw up as he asked weakly, “Who  _ are  _ you?”

His Dad didn’t speak for a moment, jaw tight like it tended to get as he thought how to form his sentence.

“I’m not quite either of them,” he admitted, deep voice quiet in consideration of the boy, “but what I am for certain is your father, and I love you.”

Kokichi cried harder, shaking his head and pulling his knees to his chest. Kamukura was careful as he walked over to him, giving him the space he needed while still getting close enough to be there for him. He was careful to consider possible hostility from his son, but backlash never came.

“You lied to me,” Kokichi hiccupped. His nose was running all over his face.

“We didn’t lie,” Kamukura said, “we were considerate of you so  _ this--”  _ he gestured to the mess Kokichi was, “--didn’t happen. You didn’t need to know about what we went through, Kichi. All of that is behind us. We’re all doing better.”

“W-Who are you--?” Kokichi repeated, squeezing his eyes shut and refusing to look at the man who had raised him. He felt like he already knew the answer, but he didn’t want to hear it.

_ So why do you keep asking? _

Kamukura cast his glance aside, catching sight of the open council folder and the images that hid inside. He felt his heart fall in realization that Kokichi truly knew  _ everything.  _ “I... am Izuru Kamukura.”

Before he could continue, Kokichi let out a pained wail, tugging at his hair. He felt like his Dad was dead. Except Kamukura was his father all along, so he  _ wasn’t,  _ and--

“--Please, Kokichi, please let me finish,” His Dad was at his side now, strong hands grasping at his wrists and pulling them free of his hair, “don’t hurt yourself, please, let me finish.”

He held his son’s wrists as he spoke, voice gentle. His face was solemn but still felt comforting to Kokichi; he cursed himself for still feeling safe in this stranger’s presence

_ Except this  _ isn’t  _ a stranger; this is the same person that would blow raspberries on your belly to make you laugh as he and your Papa got you ready for bed at night. _

“I’m both Hajime Hinata and Izuru Kamukura. When the simulation game had ended, both personalities fused. I am Kamukura living as Hinata. I have his personality and memories but struggle with them sometimes.” Kamukura was in a loose fitting shirt and a pair of Nagito’s sleeping pants; Kokichi realized that it was technically the middle of the night, so his father had somehow known he was coming here. He wondered if his Papa knew they were here. “We didn’t lie to you. I’m both, Kichi, and we both love you.”

Kokichi sniffled and hiccuped, letting his head fall to the side and knock into Kamukura’s shoulder, crying there. His father didn’t mind, letting his wrists go to wrap an arm around the teen, bloodied hand in his own.

“I love you too,” Kokichi breathed, and he felt Kamukura immediately become less tense next to him, holding him tightly. They stayed like this a while, Kokichi gripping onto his shirt and staining it with blood, but the man didn’t mind. 

“It’s not fair,” the teen said eventually, voice muffled by the cotton.

“Hm?” Kamukura hummed, nudging Kokichi back a little so he could hear him. He still kept his hand in his.

“It’s not fair,” Kokichi repeated, “you shouldn’t have had to go through this.”

A tired, endeared look spread across his father’s face. “Oh, Kichi, I did this to myself. It’s alright. I’m alright.”

“Not even just you,” he went on, voice growing more and more hysterical, “the others shouldn’t have had to ever be used the way they were or put into a killing game or trapped on this island. This shouldn’t have happened. This shouldn’t have happened; it’s not fair, not fair, not fair...

Kokichi melted into tears again and Kamukura reached out, scooping his son into his arms.

“I think it’s time we get out of here, Kichi,” he said, adjusting how he was holding the boy so it was more comfortable, standing up, “and leave all of this behind.”

He was heavy in his father’s arms as he carried him down the couple flights of stairs, petting his back as the boy continued to cry into his neck. They left the killing games and investigations and Kamukura Project behind, walking through the dark abandoned building down to the front entrance. His Dad was able to just walk right out the front door, which would have probably surprised Kokichi an hour earlier, but now he was too exhausted and spent from all of his new knowledge to even care. 

The night air was cold on Kokichi’s tear streaked skin. Kamukura’s white shirt was completely ruined by blood as were Kokichi’s pants.

“Please don’t tell Papa,” the boy whispered as they crossed the bridge, the ocean waves crashing against the nearby shore, “please.”

“I won’t tell him that you know.” Kamukura looked down at the hurting child in his arms. His chest ached at the sight of his son looking like such a wreck and in pain from the things that his family had gone through. The Ultimate Hope wished for a moment that Makoto Naegi hadn’t killed Junko Enoshima so he could rip her to shreds for making Kokichi ache so badly.

His blood boiled at the thought that she could still cause despair even over a decade after her death.

Kamukura brought Kokichi back to the teen’s cottage, cleaning up his wounds and bandaging them for him. They both agreed to just throw away the bloody clothing so washing them didn’t raise concerns.

Kokichi had grabbed Kamukura’s hand when he had eventually turned to leave after sitting at his bedside for what seemed like hours. 

The teen’s cheeks burned; he felt so childish asking, but he really needed it.

“Actually, could I maybe spend the night with you two?”

Kamukura smiled gently and waited for Kokichi to slide his shoes on, the boy following close behind him down the docks and back to the cottage he grew up in.

Nagito was sound asleep in his usual spot on the mattress, seemingly unaware that his husband had been gone. Kokichi crawled overtop him to squeeze next to him, Kamukura moving underneath the covers on his side. Nagito stirred, blinking and reeling backwards with a smile to be able to see the teen better with sleepy eyes.

“Hi, Kichi,” he said with a tired voice, reaching out to brush a thumb across the boy’s cheek, “you okay?”

Before he could speak, Kamukura lifted his head next to him, looking down at his husband. “He’s just not feeling well. He’s nervous about the mainland and tried to go for a walk and tore up his hands when he tripped.”

“Huh?” Nagito blinked, going to reach for Kokichi’s hands, but the boy lifted them above the covers so his Papa could see where they had been wrapped. The man gasped and reached out to pull Kokichi into a hug, pressing his cheek against the teen’s forehead.

“Oh, Kichi, please don’t be nervous about the mainland,” Nagito’s voice was soft in his ear and Kokichi felt himself begin to shake as he recalled the pictures he’d seen. “It’ll be amazing. You’ll love it; the wait was worth it, trust me...”

As he began to shake harder, his Dad wrapped his arms around him from behind, quietly laying there in support as Nagito talked to their son. Kokichi cried silently, nodding and shaking his head when his Papa asked him questions. Both of his parents were warm and that was comforting by itself, but there was an extra layer added because it meant that both of them were alive and had warm blood coursing through their veins.

Both exhaustion and slight relief made his body heavy and sink into the mattress, crying less and less as he was solaced. His shaking went away but his fathers never let go of him, laying in silence as they waited for Kokichi to fall asleep.

And when he began to tremble again, both of his fathers tightened him in their embraces, signaling that they would be there as long as he needed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET. THEM. BE. PARENTS
> 
> i wish there were more fics of parent komahina/kamukoma, but until they exist, i have to self-indulge in some sort of way lol
> 
> still not done here! there's a couple more chapters, but we're getting super close to the end!


	19. [null]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eRR

Kokichi wasn’t sure why he skipped putting shoes on. It wasn’t like he’d walk through mud and track his prints onto the concrete; it wasn’t even a far walk to the hotel foyer, anyway.

In a way, it felt like Christmas night--the air was still and everyone had been eager to go to bed, even though it was questionable whether or not if they’d sleep anytime soon. Tomorrow morning they’d all wake up early and his Papa and Uncle would have trucks from the fifth island to pack everyone’s things onto to bring to the main docks. The Future Foundation had told everyone to expect to board around 9 am, but that just meant they’d arrive to find the Remnants of Despair and their boy waiting since 7.

He didn’t know what made him think of this, but something itched at the back of his mind since he’d read about the NEO killing game. This could turn out to be a failure, but at least Kokichi wouldn’t lose anything. He’d just go back home and lay down until his dads woke him up in the morning.

Kokichi purposely waited until about three in the morning to attempt this. He knew that anybody having trouble falling asleep likely had succumbed by now, including Hajime.

The lobby was cold inside from the AC, making Kokichi shiver. He closed the door quietly behind him with a click and turned to face the large room. Twogami had a tendency to rearrange this room whenever he got bored, so it had been moved up against the far wall, but it was still there nonetheless. 

Kokichi approached the arcade machine carefully as if it would disappear if he let it leave his sight. It was unplugged, so he followed the cord to its respectable outlet and stuck the endings in, hearing static electricity gather on the surface of the screen a few feet away. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stick up as he walked back over, glancing down at the dusty control panel. The teen wiped his hand across the cold plastic, cleaning the thick layer that had built up over time after no one had played it for years.

Swallowing, Kokichi nudged the switch with his thumb, squinting in pain when bright lights suddenly flashed in his unadjusted eyes.

The startup screen began to boot up and the teen waited patiently even though he was dying to test his theory. He could remember being fairly little and playing this game, his Papa holding him up and his Daddy with his big hands overtop tiny ones, helping him move the controls. It was an old Atari game; there were many more like this, his dads explained, and Kokichi would one day get to play them once they were on the mainland.

They left tomorrow. Kokichi could play one of these games in less than a week.

He shook his head, getting the impending events out of his mind and focusing on the task in front of him. The spaceship graphic moved around the fading screen and he felt his heart skip; he recognized that. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

There was only one way to find out. 

Purple eyes flicked down to the control panel again. He figured his hands were probably clammy as he reached out to hold the joystick, other hand on the buttons.

He wasn’t sure why he felt like this would work. The idea had come to him in a dream; it was a fleeting thought that left as quick as it came and it had nothing to do with what he had been dreaming about. But he saw it as a sign and was thankful that he thought of it when he did, because a day later and he wouldn’t have ever been able to try it.

The startup screen continued to loop. Kokichi swallowed and tightened his grip and began.

Up, up, down, down...

He paused, thinking. His gaze shifted to the ceiling.

Left, right, left, right.

He looked down at the panel again. His hand shook as he lifted it.

B, A, start.

At first, nothing happened. The little spaceship continued to move around and shoot at the aliens like normal and Kokichi felt his heart drop. He should’ve expected as much.

The screen flickered a bit. He lifted his head, watching with held breath as the graphics began to fizzle away into static and white noise, leaving him with an empty screen.

Kokichi swallowed.

The screen began to crackle again and the socket the cabinet was plugged into sparked; the teen let out a yelp of surprise and stepped back, afraid of a fire. He glanced around, unsure of where the extinguisher was, but in his distraction he didn’t notice the image beginning to flicker against the glass.

The socket stopped sparking and only let out a few stray fizzes before quitting entirely; he happened to catch movement in the corner of his eye and looked back at the screen, feeling his heart stop.

The girl that had materialized behind the glass was young and pretty, soft mauve hair pinned back by the very spaceship that had been dancing around on the startup moments before. She had a green jacket on and wore a white dress shirt with a frail pink bow tie at its neck, and in her arms she held... Monomi.

The smile on her face seemed almost sad and suddenly Kokichi felt the final puzzle pieces shifting into place. Her grip tightened on her Monomi and the boy struggled with the urge to cry; he refused to. He just took a deep breath and swallowed, watching her intently.

“Hello,” she greeted, voice soft even despite the muffle of static electricity, “it’s wonderful to finally talk to you face-to-face.”

“You... know who I am?” Kokichi asked, fingertips resting against the panel. He was drawn entirely in by this girl, mesmerised by her existence.

The gentle smile on her face spread. “Yes. Nobody knows that I’m here, but when I’m plugged in, I can see everything that goes on in view of the screen.” Kokichi turned around to see how much of the room wasn’t obscured by the outsides of the cabinet; quite a bit was visible. “I’ve seen birthdays, Christmases... I’ve watched you grow up.”

The purple-haired teen looked back at the screen. She looked exactly how she did in the pictures. His fathers had recently entered their forties, but the girl on the other side of the glass couldn’t be older than seventeen at the most. 

“Oh! How rude of me to tell you such intense things without an introduction.” The girl yawned, hand in front of her mouth. “My name is Chiaki Nanami.”

“I know,” Kokichi said. Chiaki blinked, surprised yet somehow unfazed at the same time.

“I didn’t think that there were any indicators of my existence out there... I haven’t heard anyone talk about me.”

“Well, no one really did, and if they have, I haven’t heard them.” Kokichi wrung his hands behind his head. “They probably don’t want me to know that you exist.”

The girl hummed, adjusting the Monomi in her arms. Kokichi thought of how pristine his used to be when he was younger; now she was haphazardly stitched together and covered in tiny fabric pills where it hadn’t worn away altogether.

“Technically speaking, I don’t.” Chiaki smiled, “I’m only a computer program.”

“But,” Kokichi’s brows furrowed as he leant towards the screen, “you’re the one who made my parents meet. They couldn’t have met through a program. There were documents on you--!”

“Oh, documents...?” Chiaki puffed her cheeks out, looking slightly miffed. She was silent for a moment. “You got into something you shouldn’t have.”

“I did.” Kokichi bowed his head, feeling the tips of his ears burn in shame as she glared at him, even though there was no physical person there. “And I’m sorry--I wish I never had. But... I know for a fact that you were a real person once. Watching you...” He trailed off and swallowed. He had seen the pictures of her bloody body in a heap deep in the mazes beneath Hope’s Peak. He was positive that the corpse looked exactly like the girl talking to him.

Chiaki hummed again, setting the Monomi down next to her. She folded her hands in front of her and watched the teen through the static, gaze gentle. “I am not the same Chiaki that your fathers and friends knew. I am a computer program built in her image that was created to keep an eye on them when they were in the NEO World Program. I was meant to protect them while they were there, yet I failed...” She glanced down at her Monomi. “Izuru Kamukura had uploaded a virus that purposely sabotaged everything the Future Foundation had set up. He had tricked both the Foundation  _ and  _ Junko Enoshima and single-handedly cured all of the Remnants of Despair by forcing the program to reset.” She lifted her head again, smiling gently. It made Kokichi’s chest grow warm. “He’s super intelligent. I’ve been happy to see him doing well and learning to process his emotions correctly. I never got to meet him, but the real Chiaki did. He seems like a great guy, just a bit misunderstood as all.”

That made Kokichi feel a little better about Kamukura in general. He still tried to see his Dad like his Dad and no one else, but at times he remembered that Kamukura had masterminded the game his Papa died in and he felt slight contempt boil in his gut.

He had things he needed to talk to her about, but a question bubbled up that he couldn’t help but ask.

“How were my parents when you knew them?”

Chiaki tilted her head slightly, yawning. “Both were very, very sweet. Sickeningly sweet, actually. Nagito was always incredibly polite and considerate of others, and Hajime was always a gentleman and was the unspoken leader of the entire group. Nagito  _ loved  _ Hajime from the moment he saw him, but for some reason, it was obvious to everyone except Hajime until close to the end. They would sneak kisses sometimes, but they never realized that I always saw them.” She winked. “But I’m no snitch.”

Kokichi smiled, eyes glossy at the thought. His parents always told him that Nagito fell in love at first sight; the fact that this applied even within their killing game made him happy. He recalled Twogami telling him that it was rare for such strong love to last as long as his parents’ had, yet they were high school sweethearts who still loved hard and cherished the other dearly. 

“I... have so many things I want to ask you,” Kokichi said after a moment, purple eyes flicking up to meet hers, “but I don’t have much time.”

“Sure you do,” Chiaki solaced him, flopping one of Monomi’s ears between her fingers, “as long as you don’t unplug me, I’ll be here for you to talk to.”

“No, that’s not it.” Clammy hands grabbed at the seams of his pajama pants and he found himself unable to look her in the eye. “I... need to get something off of my chest, and I think you would give me the most rational advice. I can’t be out of bed too long; my Dad will somehow notice.”

“Oh?” The Ultimate Gamer crossed her arms, blinking. “I’m all ears.”

He had rehearsed this in his bedroom in front of the mirror for over an hour earlier that afternoon. Now that he was actually here, it felt a lot more difficult. The words clumped in his throat.

Kokichi sighed, touching his neck and massaging it. He had to say it. Someone needed to know; he needed to convince someone that this was a good idea, and that person wasn’t necessarily himself.

Finally, the words spilt from his lips like water. “I’m going to join the game.”

Chiaki was silent for a moment as she processed this, and Kokichi held his breath, unsure of where this would go. Much to his disappointment, she just wound up confused.

“Game? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” She tugged on the straps of her backpack. “Like...  _ my  _ game? That’s impossible...”

“No--” Kokichi rubbed his temple. The clarification was just as difficult to get out as the initial confession. “Danganronpa. I’m going to join Danganronpa.”

Chiaki seemed even more confused and Kokichi brought his hand down onto the plastic casing of the control panel, frustrated and aching to get the weight off of his shoulders. “Danganronpa? The killing games?”

The screen fizzed with white noise and he could’ve sworn Chiaki blanched. The Monomi in her arms sprung to life, waving her arms around.

_ “Are you crazy?!”  _ She wailed, high-pitched voice even more annoying through the static.  _ “Joining the games is such a big no-no! Why would you willingly subject yourself to that?” _

It was Kokichi’s turn to be confused, brow furrowing as he took a step back. “You can  _ talk?” _

“Kokichi.” Chiaki’s soft voice helped ground him a bit and he looked back to her. The look on her face was serious. “There are more games?”

“Yes. They jammed the signal here, but I was able to find recent documents that told me they exist.” His breath was thin as he explained, his head almost dizzy. “They air four games per season, so four games per year. Whoever survives the game just gets put into the next one, and if they manage to survive three games in a row then they’ll be allowed to reintegrate back into society.”

“Why would you willingly do this?” Monomi repeated, little plush face looking angry. Kokichi wanted to be surprised but was so mentally worn out that it hardly fazed him. “There is no purpose! Have you not learned anything by growing up and watching your parents deal with their trauma from this?”

_ “Because it’s not fair!” _ Kokichi stamped his foot, cursing at himself again for feeling his eyes grow watery. “They shouldn’t have had to do this! People shouldn’t think this is right and watch this for entertainment! It’s sick! They’re making their trauma seem small!” He blinked away tears and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I want to end the games. I want to ruin them from the inside so no one wants to watch them anymore. I want to help people heal...”

Neither Chiaki nor Monomi seemed to know what to say, watching the teen double over a bit and cry. The girl’s mouth was open as her eyes darted around, trying to think of what to do. She wanted to stop him, to figure out a way to prevent this from continuing on, but she was powerless through her screen. The only thing she had was her voice of reason and it had worked a handful of times on the boy’s parents, so she prayed she wasn’t a little rusty.

“Kokichi,” she spoke out, trying to gather the distraught teen’s attention, “Kokichi.”

The boy lifted his head, and the way his face was twisted reminded her heavily of Hajime when he had broken down within the program.

_ You aren’t even genetically related, yet you’re somehow so similar to both of them that it’s scary _

“You inherited something awful from both of your parents; it’s an amazing trait in theory, but it hurts you in the long run and will drown you.”

Kokichi sniffled, glassy eyes watching in silence as he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“You have a savior complex, Kokichi,” Chiaki explained calmly, Monomi hiding her face in her hands, “you feel like your purpose is to save and assist others, and while that’s incredible, it’s not what you’re here to do.” She smiled sadly. “I agree with you--it’s so upsetting that the games have continued and whatnot, but there’s nothing you, personally, can do about it. Everyone you know has been affected so badly because of these games, but they haven’t been subjected to it in almost two decades. Where you stand right now, you are entirely untouched by this despair. By choosing to involve yourself in the game, you’re going to trap yourself like a fly in a spiderweb and it’ll be unlikely for you to make it out alive.”

This wasn’t what Kokichi wanted to hear. His breath was shallow as he strapped his arms across himself, staring at his bare feet. They were dirtied from the concrete outside.

“Think of your dads,” Chiaki continued, folding her hands, “you’re going to break their hearts. You’re going to drag them back into this, too. Why would you do that to them?”

He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself, but instead he just saw the images flashing behind his eyelids that he wanted to forget. His Papa’s glazed, dead eyes wide open and his mouth forced open in a silent scream behind duct tape, bloodied and mutilated.

It instantly made him nauseous and he opened his eyes; he wondered if the thought made his parents nauseous as well.

He wanted to convince Chiaki that this was the right thing to do. His fathers would be upset at first, of course, but when he ruins the sick game and ends it once and for all, they’d be so proud of him. They’d be at ease knowing that their trauma wasn’t being used for entertainment anymore.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he sought after their praise as much as he did. They were already so proud of him; they loved him with all of their hearts and made sure that he knew they did. He was spoiled rotten and the only time he’d been denied something he wanted was Hope’s Peak, and even that was within reason.

Yet here he was, greedy and unsatisfied, about to go anyway. What a brat he was. 

But it was  _ for them.  _ He would give his life for both of his dads in a heartbeat. He was so upset that they were hurt and damaged the way that they were. Kokichi wondered what his Papa’s left hand had looked like before he cut it off. He wondered what Hajime Hinata--truly, 100%  _ Hajime Hinata-- _ had been like. Would they have met if this hadn’t happened? Would they have had Kokichi without despair?

There was a lot they had gone through and now they had so much. It truly explained why their love was so strong and why they hugged and kissed each other and Kokichi as much as possible.

They were thankful for what they’d come to have; they were likely scared to lose it all.

And now Kokichi was going to be selfish and selfless at the same time and risk everything.

“I understand where you’re coming from, Nanami-san.” He smiled at her, but his gaze was apologetic. She knew where this was going and swallowed hard, squeezing Monomi tightly.

Purple eyelashes brushed against his cheeks as he looked down. 

“But...I really think I can do this, so I’m going to.”

“Oh...” Monomi sounded broken, bringing her hands to her paws to her chest and looking dejected. Chiaki just sighed, closing her eyes to think for a moment; when she opened them, she seemed determined and smiled, much to Kokichi’s surprise.

“I can’t do anything to stop you, so I won’t argue anymore.” The girl brought a finger up to her jaw in thought. “I wonder if your dads realize how similar you are to them? All three of you are very bull-headed.”

The teen laughed half-heartedly. “They get that a lot.”

“Just--please, Kokichi. Keep your family in mind. If you really do go through with it, then please think rationally and make sure you do everything to keep yourself safe. Being the child of two survivors will put a massive target on your back. Watch your six.”

Kokichi nodded in understanding, swallowing hard. This wasn’t the outcome he expected, but he was thankful talking to her didn’t necessarily convince him to back out. Monomi didn’t seem too pleased, but Chiaki had a hand on her head, which seemed to be enough to calm her down for the most part.

“I should probably go back to bed,” Kokichi finally said, backing up, “early morning tomorrow. I’ll have to pack up my bedspread and toiletries and things and help my Papa load up the first truck to take to the docks.”

Chiaki nodded, her smile warm enough even through the screen to make Kokichi’s hair stand on end. “I understand. I’m so glad you were able to figure out how to talk to me! It’s so lonely here.”

Kokichi nodded in return, expression falling. “Now you won’t even be able to watch anything through the screen. We’re all going to be leaving. You’ll be alone...”

“That’s alright!” Her voice was bright and her optimism made Kokichi want to cry; he wished he could think that way. “The fact that everyone is leaving means that in the end, I did exactly what I was supposed to do.” Chiaki adjusted her Galaga clip, grinning proudly. “I’ve fulfilled my purpose.”

The teen glanced over at the wall outlet. There were black marks on the wall from where the socket had sparked; he was thankful they were leaving tomorrow and no one would notice, because then he would’ve gotten an earful.

“Thank you for talking to me, Nanami-san.” Kokichi said. Chiaki waggled her fingers, Monomi waving.

“Of course, Kokichi. It was refreshing to hold a conversation with someone I’ve watched ever since they were little. Hajime and Nagito did a good job.”

His feet were heavy as he approached the outlet, not wanting to unplug her but knowing he had to. He stepped over the cord to reach the plug, gingerly grasping it close to the prong protectors. He heard the white noise began to fizz more and more, Chiaki beginning to fade out even without his input. Just as he was about to pull the cord, he heard a muffled yell, leading him to freeze and wander back over to the cabinet in worry.

“Nanami-san?” He asked, looking over the screen. Her image was growing more and more lost within the static, but he was still able to see her.

“Kokichi, will you do me a favor?” She was barely understandable.

“Yes! What is it?” He squinted to try and see her better, but the noise just grew worse.

“Please don’t tell either of your dads that I’m here.” she requested, voice breaking up. “They seem like they finally got over their Chiaki; I don’t want to reopen old wounds.”

Taking that in for a moment, Kokichi finally smiled in agreeance and nodded, satisfied by the smile that she returned. He moved back over to the outlet and felt that he had enough closure to pull the plug, hearing the static gather on the glass screen behind him. 

Even though she had never physically been there, the room still felt emptier.

Kokichi stood in the center of the lobby for a few moments, taking everything in. They weren’t going to have breakfast tomorrow and they had no reason to gather in this room, so he would likely be the last person inside. He glanced around; he could recall Christmases when they’d all meet and trade gifts while Kokichi opened his presents. Birthdays that were always celebrated here. Sometimes they would just meet there to all hang out and it was still really nice.

A lot of memories were made on Jabberwock that he wasn’t ready to leave behind, but he supposed that as long as he had the people he made the memories with, he wouldn’t mind.

Giving one last glance back to the Galaga cabinet, he turned and left, quietly padding back to his cottage.

As he passed the other cottages, he stopped in front of his parents’ and walked up to their door, bending down to peer through the slits of their blinds.

He could see them (both asleep, thank god) snuggled up to each other, his Papa’s head nestled comfortably against his Daddy’s chest and Hajime’s arm wrapped around his side. Nagito’s hair was a mess, splayed in every direction; their backs rose and fell near synchrony. They looked so peaceful and Kokichi loved them.

He just prayed he wouldn’t ruin their peace by trying to avenge them.

Part of him wanted to dig out the spare key from under the mat and let himself in, crawling underneath their covers and sleeping next to them for the last time in the same bed they used to all share when he was little.

However, he knew he needed to grow up a bit in order to fully go through with joining the game; he couldn’t be as dependent on them anymore. 

Kokichi went back to his cottage and passed out from exhaustion as soon as he tucked himself back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's impossible to do the konami code on an arcade cabinet, shhhhhh 
> 
> getting closer!! only a few more chapters left! this officially finishes all of the character themed chapters though. i've loved writing this fic but i won't lie, it'll be nice to have the weight off of my shoulders haha
> 
> see you soon!


	20. Prelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hajime and nagito get to meet the baby they fought so hard for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! this is the longest chapter so far i think; i've been writing bits and pieces of it since kamukura's chapter so it didn't take as much time to finish it up! a bit of tooth-rotting fluff for you guys before everything goes downhill.
> 
> tw: mentions of suicidal thoughts (but everything is okay i swear)
> 
> enjoy!! xx

The air was cold as it wrapped around their shoulders, but the two men stood close to their partner, a blanket held tight between them to keep it warm for their baby once he arrived.

It had been a long and tiring process--involving lots and lots of tears, mostly on Nagito’s end--but the Future Foundation had finally agreed to let them adopt. The husbands had fought desperately for their case, insisting that they were no longer under the effects of despair and wouldn’t bring harm to anyone, let alone a child; still, the Foundation hadn’t budged. Nagito was often reduced to a weeping mess and wouldn’t be in a state to be assessed any further. Hajime was just as upset but managed to keep his emotions bottled until they were in private out of fear that they’d be deemed “unstable” for having basic human reactions whenever they were hurt.

It had been a quiet April evening when Hajime’s laptop began to chime from across the room, signaling an incoming video call. He had been laying in bed, lazily paging through a book he had read several times with Nagito asleep next to him. Careful to not wake his husband, the older of the two slipped out of bed, bare feet sticking to the hardwood as he opened the laptop. He accepted the call, squinting at the harsh white light that illuminated wherever Naegi was.

“Hinata,” Naegi greeted, sounding somewhat urgent, “is Nagito with you?”

“Yes, of course,” Hajime blinked, thrown off by the lack of any sort of small talk to open with; Naegi favored that a lot. “Why, is everything alright?”

“Yes! Well, no... yes  _ and  _ no?” The younger of the two Hopes sounded somewhat giddy despite the serious expression he tried to hold. A small smile twitched on the corner of his lips. “I would grab him if I were you.”

Hajime nodded, bringing himself to his knees to stand up and get his partner. Naegi made a noise, grabbing the attention of the other.

“Oh, were you two sleeping? I’m so sorry--”

“--It’s alright, Naegi, if it’s urgent, it’s urgent. I can wake him, no issue--”

“--Wait, if I’m remembering the layout of your room correctly, the TV is in front of the bed, right?”

Hinata furrowed his brow. “Yeah, why?”

“Take the laptop with you. You’re going to need the TV."

The groggy brunet was swift yet quiet as he grabbed his computer, moving quickly to their bed and setting it down. 

“You’re making me nervous, Naegi,” Hajime admitted, sitting down and moving across to be able to reach his husband, “insisting that something is urgent and wanting us to watch the TV...”

“It’s nothing despairing, I promise,” Naegi held out his hands, “Well. It’s somewhat upsetting, but it has nothing to do with the Tragedy or copycat Despairs.”

This eased Hajime a bit as he gently shook Nagito awake, his pale husband blinking and tilting his head to look up at him. The brunet held out his hand for him to take, carefully pulling him up to sit as he murmured to him that he needed to wake up.

The luckster, half-asleep, rubbed his eye and yawned. “Hello, Naegi-kun...”

This made the other laugh. “Good morning, Komaeda. Hinata, Jabberwock has Japanese national news networks, right? Tune into one of those.”

Hajime nodded and wordlessly reached for the remote, turning the TV on and flipping through the channels to find it. Nagito wrapped his arms around his partner’s free arm and watched worriedly at the screen.

“Is everything okay?” Nagito hummed, his husband choosing to not answer and keep looking because he truthfully wasn’t sure. Naegi smiled almost apologetically.

“Like I told Hinata, yes and no. It will make more sense once you’re watching the news.”

As if on cue, Hajime had managed to make it to one of the news channels, his heart stopping when he saw the red ‘breaking’ ticker tape across the bottom. He’d seen a lot of those at one point and was sick that almost all of them had been their fault.

Now, though, it only read of tragedy on a smaller scale: there had been a terrible car pileup during a rainstorm that killed 30 and injured 16.

“That’s terrible?” Hinata said, somewhat bothered that Naegi had woken both of them up just to make them feel bad. Nagito blinked and intertwined his hand with his partner’s, frowning and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Was this on purpose?” Nagito asked quietly, glancing at the computer screen. The other Lucky Student shook his head, his lips in a tight line.

“We don’t believe so. It’s the middle of the monsoon season and this particular storm had been pretty thick. Visibility wasn’t very good and two people crashed and others hydroplaned and it was a mess.” Naegi scratched his head, averting his gaze. “The likelihood of this being anything but an accident is slim to none.”

“Naegi, you said ‘yes and no’ when we asked if everything was okay. Is this the good or bad of what you wanted to call us about?” Hajime was tired and didn’t want the negativity of the situation throwing Nagito into an episode; he loved him dearly, but his husband was getting better with himself and Hajime wasn’t looking for any outside stimulus to backtrack his progress.

A small smile twitched onto the other Hope’s face, but it left as quickly as it came, almost as if he were trying to hide it.

“This is the bad! I have good news now.” He said, letting out a sigh and a pained smile. “There had been a car that broke past the guard rails and flipped. It wound up completely crushed by the time it stopped flipping.”

“This doesn’t sound like good news,” Hajime’s voice was low and quick as he spoke. He could feel Nagito tense up next to him.

Naegi held out his hands in defense. “No, no, wait, I’m getting to it! Please hold on.

“A young couple had been in this car with their child. Responders were able to get to them but when they got there they were able to deduce that the couple had been dead by the time the car had stilled.”

“Did the child die, too?” Nagito asked, voice thin as paper. He trembled slightly and Hajime’s arm slid around his waist, pulling him close and murmuring reassurances into his hair. Nagito didn’t like to talk about his trauma, so the fact that they were getting so dangerously close to triggering him made his partner worry.

Naegi shook his head. “No, he lived.”

Nagito’s breath hitched and Hajime squeezed him tighter. The white-haired man buried most of his face into his husband’s shoulder, actively fighting off tears to prevent seeming weak. Hajime’s jaw was visibly tight as he was seconds from growing upset, so Naegi kept going.

“U-Um, the couple had no family, so the child is orphaned. He’s a little less than half a year old and, by some miracle, was only left with a few bruises and scratches.” The fuzzy image of the man on the screen smiled. “He’s truly lucky to be alive.”

Nagito sniffled.

“That being said,” Naegi continued, not looking for trouble from the man’s protective husband, “since he has no parents, he has to go into the adoption pool, but we figured ‘what better parent than someone who knows exactly how this feels’...?”

The two men thought for a moment, Nagito’s tears slowing as he processed what Naegi had said. When the gravity of the words hit him, his head snapped up, eyes glossy with hopeful tears that threatened to spill over. Even Hajime’s grip on him tightened so much in anticipation it felt as if it could bruise. The brunet watched Naegi expectantly and felt his heart flutter when a smile began to spread across his face.

“Wait, what are you--” Nagito’s face contorted and he brought a hand to his mouth as he started to fully cry, “--are you saying--”

“--Naegi,” Hajime joined in, swallowing hard and squeezing his husband in a vice-like grip, “are you serious?”

The other Hope couldn’t help but laugh excitedly for them, smiling wide as he clasped his hands together. It even looked like his eyes were glittering with tears, too.

“I was able to talk the Foundation into it, and if you two are interested, there’s a lonely baby boy who needs loving parents to come home to.”

Nagito had told Hajime that he despised how easily he cried anymore, but this had been the hardest that the older had  _ ever  _ seen him cry. He bawled his eyes out as he held onto Hajime with the same bruising embrace, melting in his arms. Hajime tried to fight the tears but couldn’t in the end, thrilled to bits and feeling a huge weight lifting off of his shoulders. They would finally have a baby.

Naegi had been patient enough to sit and watch them for a few minutes as they cried onto each other’s faces, kissing wet cheeks over and over again and intertwining shaking hands and whispering sweet things to one another. Once the couple was calm enough to hold conversation again, they discussed the procedures and how it was all going to work. It would be a month or so until the boy could be brought to Jabberwock, but the Foundation only agreed to go along with Naegi if it meant they could monitor how the men were raising the child. They still worried about despair and had been reluctant to let them adopt the child in fear that they’d hurt it in the name of Junko, but Naegi had fought on their behalf for the better part of three hours. The Remnants were getting better. They would raise the baby successfully and prove that they were entirely free of the chains they had been given when they were teenagers.

So the two stood close, breath visible in the chilly morning air, and Nagito shivered. Hajime moved the blanket a bit so it could partially cover his frail husband, coaxing a smile out of the younger that was warm enough to thaw his cold, aching bones.

“You should’ve worn a coat, babe,” Hajime playfully scolded, kissing the bridge of the pale nose. Nagito chuckled, tilting his face into his husband’s warmth.

“I didn’t think it would be this cold.” Nagito felt around for his partner’s hand underneath the blanket and took it, squeezing it nervously in his own.

“It actually isn’t too bad, really,” Hajime said, “It’s likely just your nerves.”

“Agh...” Nagito bent his body forward, letting his head dangle for a minute so he could feel the wind in his hair and blood rush. “It makes sense, but aren’t you nervous, too?”

“Of course.” Hajime looked out at the horizon to see if there was any sign of the boat yet. “I’m just trying to keep a level head so I don’t make your nerves worse.”

“You can lean on me, darling, you know I don’t mind.” Nagito stood back upright, nuzzling his cheek against Hajime’s. He could feel stubble growing there and it scratched at his porcelain skin, but it felt like home to him.

“I know...” Hajime breathed, voice low. As a side effect of both personalities merging, he sometimes had trouble expressing his emotions and when he wasn’t sure of what to do or say, he’d brush things off. It was a polite way of asking Nagito to back off just a bit; Nagito never took offense and gave Hajime the space he needed.

So the two stood in comfortable silence, holding each other’s hands beneath the blanket, caressing skin with their thumbs. Nagito sighed as he kept his cheek pressed against his husband’s, basking in the warmth of his skin as he closed his eyes, waiting patiently. Hajime’s arm slid around his waist, pulling him closer.

When the boat appeared on the horizon, Hajime nudged the taller to get him to open his eyes.

Their nerves were suddenly palpable as Nagito squeezed Hajime’s hand tighter, his husband squeezing back, and they held their breath as the boat slowly got closer. 

“Oh my God,” Nagito said.

“It’ll be fine,” Hajime reassured him, pressing a kiss to his temple. His husband was shaking like a leaf and he pulled him into his chest, running a hand through his hair and murmuring in his ear. The blanket was between them still; it had been knitted by Hajime a few days before and was a pale purple to match the boy’s hair. Naegi had shown them a picture of the child through video chat, but the quality was too grainy to be able to tell much of what he looked like. Of course that didn’t matter, but both men were endeared by the mop of purple hair atop the child’s head; for him to have such bright hair at such a young age was rare.

The boat pulled into the port and came to a standstill. The partners watched intently for minutes on end as nothing happened and no one emerged; Nagito wedged a nervous hand into his own hair and tugged, Hajime reaching over to gently grab his wrist and pull it back a bit so he didn’t hurt himself

Much to their surprise, the first person to begin winding down the ramp to meet them wasn’t Naegi, but rather his sister.

“Komaru?” Nagito’s eyebrows raised and he stepped forward; the girl let out a roar of excitement as she barreled toward him

“Komaeda!” Komaru yelled out, arms outstretched as she ran full speed. The man hardly had time to prepare before she collided with him; she squeezed him tightly and he wrapped her in his arms, laughing as he rested his cheek atop her head. “Komaeda, I’ve missed you!”

“I missed you too,” he smiled, voice strangled slightly from her strong grip, though he didn’t mind. Komaru eventually let him go, but not before kissing his cheek in greeting; he kissed hers back. It would be impolite not to.

“Hi, Kamukura-san!” Komaru waved enthusiastically and Hajime sighed, managing a small smile and a wave back. He saw Nagito glance back at him in concern, but the brunet only winked at him in a silent gesture to ensure him not to worry. Most of these people had no clue what he preferred to go by. It wouldn’t do him any good to take it personally.

“Why...? are you here?” Nagito asked; it came out slightly rude but Komaru knew he meant no harm. She laughed, looking backwards at Toko, who was begrudgingly coming down the ramp behind her.

“Simple, silly! I wanted to see you! I haven’t seen you in forever.” The girl puffed her cheeks out. “It’s rough being in the field all the time! I always ask if I can accompany Makoto on his trips up here but most of the time Munakata says no and that I have to stay.”

“That’s right, you and Fukawa are still stationed in Towa, aren’t you?” Nagito asked, looking the unkempt woman up and down when she appeared next to Komaru. She seemed tired and her hair was unbrushed as usual, but her clothes seemed to be less baggy and torn. She moved to push her glasses up on her nose and Nagito tensed a bit; Hajime moved forward to snake a hand around his waist.

“Unfortunately,” Toko murmured, earning an elbow in her side from Komaru.

“Hey! You love working with me!” Komaru cried, hands on her hips. Toko grit her teeth, shrinking in on herself.

“Y-You can be a handful...” she replied, causing Komaru to stamp her feet and throw a fit.

Nagito pressed closer to Hajime, bothered by the noise. The brunet kissed his cheek, caressing his waist with his thumb through the sweater he had on. The sickly man had been getting better at managing his anxiety, especially with his husband boasting both the Ultimate Psychologist and Ultimate Pharmacist talents, but today was such an overwhelming day that it was becoming too much for him to hold back.

Eventually Komaru and Toko stopped their halfhearted bickering and the younger of the two tucked her arms behind her back, leaning forward. “You guys wanna see the baby?”

“Yes,” Nagito breathed out, almost in tears. Hajime chuckled in surprise and wiped underneath his eye with his thumb. 

“Nagito,” he cooed, coaxing a laugh out of his watery-eyed partner. Komaru giggled, crossing her arms.

“He’s so cute!” Komaru grinned, “He likes to hold your finger and makes a lot of cute noises!”

“We can’t wait to see him,” Hajime said, seeing as Nagito was a bit weepy out of nerves at the moment, “we’ve been waiting so long for this.”

“We know you have...” It was Toko’s turn to talk this time, and the notes of sympathy in her voice caught Hajime off guard. “I-It’s ridiculous that it took this long for you two to get the okay to have a baby. Most of us were always for it. I’m sorry that the higher-ups were too busy with their heads up their own asses t-to... to let you start your family.”

Obviously Toko was never bigoted in the time that they knew her, but for some reason her kindness caught both men off guard. Nagito laughed a little, wiping the sweat from his palms on the thighs of his jeans. His scars burned a bit underneath her purple gaze.

“Thank you, Fukawa.” Hajime said for them, knocking his head against Nagito’s. “We appreciate that.”

There was audible chattering on the deck of the boat that caught the attention of the four standing there. The girls turned around to see and the mens’ knees went weak at the sight of Naegi and Togami at the ramp with a handful of faceless agents behind them and a wrapped bundle in Naegi’s arms.

The husbands turned to each other to hang on to the other tightly, Hajime’s hand on the back of Nagito’s neck and the latter’s palms on the small of the brunet’s back. They whispered things in the other’s ear--words of reassurance, excitement, relief--and Komaru smiled, looking over to Toko. The older grinned tiredly, her heart admittedly light at the sight of the lovers, although she’d never admit it. 

Nagito and Hajime parted when Komaru cleared her throat to catch their attention; Naegi stood next to her, keeping the bundle close to his chest to keep it warm. Nagito almost  _ immediately  _ burst into tears and Hajime fought them off the best he could as he grinned.

“Hi, Naegi,” he greeted, eyes watery. The younger of the two Hopes smiled up at him and winked; he chuckled a bit as his gaze flicked to Nagito, who had a harsh grip on his husband’s sleeve and his metallic hand to his face to (unsuccessfully) hide his ugly crying.

“Komaeda, why are you crying?” He teased, bouncing the bundle in his arms. “I thought you were excited?”

“I--am--” Nagito’s breathing was labored as he succumbed to his relieved sobbing, bringing both of his hands to his mouth as Hajime’s arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind. He could see his husband resting his head on his shoulder out of the corner of his eye, and he was pressed so close to his cheek that Nagito could feel his dark eyelashes brush against his skin as he blinked tears down his face. Togami was stiff as usual, arms crossed over his chest, but he didn’t seem entirely disgusted with everything around him.

“Do you want to take him now?” Naegi’s voice was soft and slightly wavered; Komaru giggled. What a softie.

Nagito could only nod, Hajime staying where he was behind him. Naegi broke the gap between them to hold out his arms, allowing the two to see inside of the bundle as well.

The boy’s cheeks were chubby and half-hid his big purple eyes. He had incredibly long eyelashes--purple like the mop of hair on his head--and his cheeks were rosy with heat from being swaddled in the blanket. His eyes were open and he looked over his fathers’ faces in innocent curiosity, but being taken away from Naegi’s warm chest and held out into the open where the wind could nip his sensitive skin made his expression contort, lower lip trembling and his eyes growing glassy.

Neither Nagito nor Hajime realized that it was possible to fall in love twice.

“He can be a little fussy,” Naegi explained as he passed the boy over to his white-haired parent who took him eagerly and pressed him to his chest to keep him warm, “he’s been through a lot in this last month and he’s pretty scared. He seems to like me a lot though, so Hajime, since we look alike, he might take to you first.”

Nagito’s sobs froze as he looked down at the baby in his arms in wonder, feeling the entire world stop around the three of them. Hajime stayed pressed close to him, peering over his shoulder and holding his husband as he was also drawn in by their child. The weight in Nagito’s arms seemed surreal--they had dreamt about this exact moment for years, laying next to each other with their fingers intertwined as they fantasized about becoming parents together, both quietly knowing that their chances of doing just that were slim to none.

Yet here they were, standing on the docks with an audience as they both broke down, weeping in relief as they held their son in their arms.

Naegi fought off his own tears as he watched, Togami elbowing him in his side. Toko sighed in discomfort and rubbed her forearms, averting her gaze. Komaru was ecstatic, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet and folding her hands. There were a million things she wanted to say--chattering nonstop to her old friend and her brother--but she kept her mouth shut, knowing it would be rude to take this moment away from them. Instead, the four stood there with the agents behind them, watching in supportive silence as the men celebrated their baby. The child was overwhelmed and began to cry too, cold and confused, but Nagito held him closer to his chest to allow him to feel his heartbeat.

“Everything’s alright now, little one,” Hajime sniffled, reaching down to wipe blobby tears from the boy’s cheeks, “we’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Nagito tilted his head into Hajime’s and the brunet pressed a long kiss into his temple, tightening the grip he had around him. The paler man bounced the bundle in his arms to try and stop his crying, trying to keep the child warm. He whispered reassurances to him, tears freely flowing down his cheeks as Hajime looked back at the Foundation, who had been patiently watching.

“No Kirigiri?” He inquired, choosing to be the conversational one of the two; it was clear that Nagito was (rightfully) distracted by their baby. “I don’t think she’s missed a single trip here.”

Naegi bit back a grin and the other three looked over to him; Komaru clapped her hands excitedly and squealed, and Togami and Toko were also unable to hide the sparkle behind their eyes. Hajime’s eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“Kyoko is actually pregnant,” Naegi explained, Komaru letting out a whoop and punching the air; this statement was enough to break Nagito out of his trance, mouth hanging open as he listened, “We were worried about the rocking of the boat making her sick, so she stayed behind this time.”

“Oh my God, Naegi, that’s incredible. Congrats!” Hajime was genuinely happy for him, feeling the pride radiating off of his shorter acquaintance as he thanked the brunet, rubbing the back of his neck. Toko seemed slightly annoyed by Komaru, who was full of way too much energy for this early in the morning.

“I’m going to be an aunt! I’m so excited!” The girl was grinning so wide it looked like it hurt.

“We know,” Togami sniped, adjusting his glasses, “You’re very loud about it.”

“Naegi-kun, I don’t have a doubt in my mind that you’ll be a great parent,” Nagito’s eyes glazed over a bit and Hajime took a breath in, sensing an incoming ramble from his husband, “Your Hope shines brighter than most... whatever children you raise are going to be incredible--”

“--Thank you, Komaeda, that means a lot.” Naegi was quick to cut him off, earning a wink from Hajime that let him know it was alright. Everybody was too drained to endure one of Nagito’s infamous speeches, and apparently Nagito didn’t really mind being cut off either, because he went back to fussing over the baby.

“Now I realize we requested that you two meet us alone, but I have this...  _ hunch  _ that this wasn’t the case.” Togami rolled his eyes as the two men kept close to one another, silent as they watched the blond pull the megaphone off of his belt and hold it to his lips.

“Remnants of Despair, come out from where you’re hiding. We know you’re there.”

Slowly, one by one at first, the Remnants began to show themselves from where they were hiding; they emerged behind cars, trees, from truck beds. Hajime wasn’t sure he liked how Togami had addressed them--they had only wished to be there to support him and Nagito and were just as excited for them--but he forced himself to bite his tongue and keep the peace. As their leader, it wasn’t a good idea to pick fights anyway, but now that he was officially a father he had to be even more careful. He would be willing to kill to keep this baby in their possession.

Hajime closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath. It wasn’t this deep. Togami was just a bit pretentious and liked to be bossy. He glanced behind him to make sure the Remnants weren’t upset, but they all just stood in silence, staring and watching Nagito cradle their baby. This eased him a bit. Kamukura’s mindset made him want to act before thinking sometimes.

“Well, since they’re here,” Naegi was quick to jump in and diffuse the situation, Hajime nestling against Nagito’s side again, “Tsumiki?”

“Y-Yes!” Mikan nervously waved, stepping forward. She had a satchel on her side that was packed to capacity with medical supplies. They had suspected that they would need her immediately anyways, so when they all planned to wait at the docks, she had prepared ahead of time.

“Would you be willing to take a look at Kokichi and make sure he’s alright?”

“Yes--!” She stumbled forward and nearly tripped, but Nekomaru and Peko were quick to reach out and catch her before she fell. She stuttered out a thanks before continuing over to them. Nagito wasn’t exactly ready to hand the child over so quickly, but he knew he had to; he kissed the warm forehead before giving him to Mikan, who went into Ultimate mode and became hyperfocused.

The rest of the day was busy but in the best kind of way; after Mikan checked up on the baby, they took him back to the husbands’ shared cottage and allowed every Remnant to hold him. Naegi and Komaru stayed inside with them (out of order to make sure that they didn’t harm the child, which they knew was bullshit anyway) and when Kokichi wasn’t in a friend’s arms, he was in Nagito’s. Hajime had held him a handful of times, but it was clear that Nagito was better with kids and was the one between the two of them that needed something positive to dote on for a while. Ibuki and Kazuichi were incredibly excited and declared themselves honorary Aunt and Uncle and managed to make Kokichi laugh and babble as they made funny faces and played with him. Sonia and Teruteru had cried and Gundham declared the baby a Child of the Darkness and cast a protective spell upon Kokichi. Mitarai had lingered nervously outside the door for about a half hour before the Imposter finally convinced him to go in with them. Everyone was incredibly sweet and took immediate likings to the baby, which relieved Nagito and Hajime. Most brought gifts, some from the market and some handmade--Kokichi was wrapped in the light purple blanket his Daddy had made him and wore a little hat that Fuyuhiko had brought him (who was unamused by Hajime’s joke insisting that it belonged to the gangster first).

The sun dipped below the horizon and Mahiru had been kind enough to bring the husbands dinner, knowing that they likely didn’t want to leave their cabin. They talked with the Future Foundation for hours until they all excused themselves and went to the motel on the third island; they would be staying for a few days as a “precautionary measure” to ensure the baby was absolutely safe before they left.

(They had nothing to worry about; this was only solidified as Nagito fell asleep mid-conversation against Hajime with their baby in his arms, asleep as well.)

Hajime gently took the bundle from his husband as he stretched, rubbing his eyes.

“‘M sorry,” Nagito apologized. Hajime chuckled.

“What for? Falling asleep on me?” The brunet bounced the bundle and stroked Kokichi’s cheek, the child stirring in his arms. “Don’t be, baby. You’re tired. It’s been a long day.”

“I think I’m gonna get in the shower,” Nagito said, standing up, “Do you have him for a minute?”

Kokichi began to whine and squirm and Hajime shushed him, trying to console him. “Of course. Take as long as you need.”

Nagito’s gait was sluggish as he shut himself inside the bathroom, stripping and getting into the shower. Today had taken a lot out of him; he wouldn’t give it up for anything, but he was thankful that it was over now. Rest would feel nice.

The hot water beating on his back felt good on his sore muscles and he sighed. He assessed everything he’d ever been through that had led up to this moment. He was particularly thankful for Kamukura for waking him up--for the longest time he quietly resented him, feeling that he had no true reason to be alive. He loved Hajime with every fiber of his being and was thrilled that he’d fallen in love with him too--there was nobody else he would’ve given his hand in marriage to--but even with the love of his life sleeping next to him every night, he struggled with his motivation.

He held his head underneath the stream of water as he massaged shampoo into his scalp. He had felt trapped with no purpose; a waste of space. There were nights that he contemplated ending it all--to save everybody’s time--but the only thing that kept him from doing so was the thought of how badly it would affect his husband. He didn’t want to think about how upset he’d be and recalling Hajime telling him about his death in the Neo World Program, he would take it incredibly hard. He couldn’t do that to him.

But now he felt like he was undeniably needed. He had a little life to raise that was depending on him for protection and support. He was officially a dad and had the weight of the world on his shoulders; it was sobering. It was an excuse to not trudge to the warehouse in the middle of the night and hope Hajime didn’t wake.

Nagito rinsed his hair out, heart thumping lightly against his chest as he thought about the times the three of them would have together. He thought of showering Kokichi with gifts and helping him tuck his lost teeth underneath his pillow. He thought of watching Hajime bond with their son and falling harder and harder for the man every day. He thought of being there for him when he was crying and helping him feel better. Nagito had been robbed of lots of these times with his parents and he’d be damned if he’d let Kokichi miss out on these things, too.

Truthfully, he was exhausted, and the heat from the water and steam had only tired him more. Turning the water off, he rubbed his hair with his towel until it was damp and fluffed in every direction. His arms ached from holding them in the same position all day; as he dried himself off, the dull pain began to ease slightly with the movement. Nagito tied his towel at his waist, careful not to track water across the tiles as he went back into the main part of the cottage.

He was quiet to open the door in case the baby was sleeping, but what he found instead made his heart skip a beat and his cheeks flush.

Hajime was standing across the room, gently bouncing the child in his arms, voice quiet as he sang him a lullaby.

Nagito was entirely entranced as he watched his husband--who had still been struggling with the occasional bout of aloofness--tilt his head towards their new baby and rub the soft cheek with the pad of his thumb. It was somewhat hard to see from the angle Nagito was at, but it appeared that Kokichi was asleep, lulled under by his Daddy’s voice. Hajime still sang despite this, stopping at one point to press a kiss to the child’s forehead. Nagito felt like his heart could burst and tears pricked his eyes.

“You know,” Nagito smiled when Hajime flinched and stopped, turning his head, “I didn’t think it was possible for me to fall even deeper in love with you.”

The tips of Hajime’s ears burned as Nagito walked to him, stray water droplets rolling down his face from his damp hair, and put his hands on his tan husband’s waist.

“But you never cease to amaze me, Hinata-kun,” he breathed, eyes glittering and glossy, and Hajime leant forward to connect their lips. Nagito sighed in content, running a hand through the thick brown hair before pulling away, glancing down at their son in his partner’s toned arms.

“I haven’t heard that one in a while,” Hajime joked, a sideways grin on his face, “Hinata-kun.”

“Mm.” Nagito only hummed in response, wanting to hold the child but knowing that he held him enough that day. He also was scared to wake him.

“Should we put him in his crib, then?” Hajime asked, figuring he’d give his husband the decision. He didn’t mind either way.

Nagito furrowed his brow in thought before looking up at his love. “Let me get dressed. We can sleep with him in between us tonight.” He wound a spindly finger into soft purple hair, giggling when it held the shape. “It’s the first night we get to spend with him; he’ll have plenty of chances to sleep in his crib.”

Hajime sat on their bed and continued to cradle the baby as Nagito got dressed, choosing to not wear a shirt that night. (To be fair, Hajime wasn’t either; it was hot inside the cabin from the steam.)

The white-haired man turned off all of the lights as Hajime got into bed and the two of them were careful not to wake the child as they moved to their spots. Eventually they were settled, the baby flat on his back between them; they laid close, forehead to forehead with their arms on the others’ hip as they looked down at their son.

“Hajime?” Nagito’s voice was soft and the brunet pressed his lips to the pale forehead to let him know he was listening. “I want you to know something.”

Hajime put his hand on the back of Nagito’s neck, rubbing the skin there with his thumb. “What’s on your mind, baby?” 

“I hate what we had to go through, but.” He swallowed, fighting off tears and looking his partner in the face. Hajime’s expression was soft. “I would go through it all a hundred times over if it meant I could get exactly to where we are right now.”

The brunet smiled softly and felt his eyes grow warmer, lifting his hand from Nagito’s neck to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. “Don’t cry, honey. It’s all said and done.” He pressed their foreheads together again and reached down to pull a spindly hand from his hip, resting it gently atop their baby. Hajime laced their fingers together and allowed Nagito to feel the rise and fall of the child’s tummy for a few moments before speaking again.

“I would do the same thing,” Hajime said, “but it’s a good thing we never have to go through that again. We are where we are; enjoy it, lovely.” He smiled, staring into watery green eyes. “Nagito Komaeda, you have a husband who loves you dearly and now you have a baby. You are not your trauma. It’s in the past, so enjoy what you have now.”

Nagito let out an airy laugh, squeezing Hajime’s fingers tightly over the child’s belly. He pressed his cheek to his husband’s. “Oh, Hajime, my love, I will, I will, I promise...

“I’ll cherish you both every second that I have you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love naegi sm.
> 
> i've got a couple wips that i'm itching to work on so i'm really trying to crank this out without snipping you guys of any quality! school picks back up on monday so i'm trying to write as much in my downtime as i can.
> 
> see you soon!


	21. Makoto Naegi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a banquet to celebrate the rehabilitation of the remnants of despair is the last thing kokichi wants to go to, but for his parents, he will go anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!
> 
> so it's been a long time. i'm really sorry!! i had originally planned on working on this intensively during spring break, but then spring break turned into an extra week and suddenly we were under quarantine and my classes were moved online. this last month and a half has been hectic and crazy; i haven't had a second to breathe between school and work so this has been on the backburner. however, i only have two more finals and i'm done for the semester, so i'll be able to work on this again!
> 
> tw for recreational drinking again. nothing negative though!
> 
> enjoy xx

Even on the boat, it still didn’t seem real to Kokichi that they had left Jabberwock and would never be there again.

The trip back to Japan would take about a day and a half, so the Foundation had set all of the Remnants up with rooms in what used to be holding cells on the bottom level. Granted, they were redecorated and furnished, with two bunk beds in each; Kazuichi had called dibs on the leftover bed in their room and told Kokichi that he also had dibs on the top bunk. Not that Kokichi really cared.

For the evening, however, the Foundation had insisted on holding a banquet to celebrate their departure; they didn’t state why to protect Kokichi, even though he and his Dad were aware. There were quite a few agents on the boat--Kokichi was able to guess that this was in case the Remnants chose to revolt. The thought made his stomach turn; the fact that they even entertained that idea was sickening, because all the Remnants cared about was rejoicing and celebrating with each other. They were so excited to return home to things that were old and familiar and overjoyed that their lives could finally go back to normal.

Although, at the end of the day, he supposed it didn’t matter; the stupid ass Foundation could think whatever they wanted about his family, but they had spent almost twenty years proving their innocence, and now they were finally free.

Kokichi had never been good at tying ties, so his Dad had stayed behind while Souda and his Papa went ahead to the banquet. Hajime still had a few things to do before he went down, anyway.

“They’re probably going to have drinks for us tonight,” Hajime explained on one knee as he effortlessly tied the violet tie, looping it around his son’s neck.

“Okay,” Kokichi nodded before being lightly scolded for moving, “Which one of you is staying sober?”

“I’m going to let your Papa drink. He really loves the Foundation and is excited to be around them for a while; I would feel bad if he were the one restricted.” Hajime began to work on tying the knot. “Besides, I know how to hold my liquor. If he has any more than two drinks, he’ll be pretty tipsy. It takes about three and a half before I can feel even just a buzz.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Plus,” Hajime continued, adjusting the tie so it was even, “I’m sort of the unspoken leader of the Remnants. It probably wouldn’t look very good if I had gotten sloshed on one of the most important days of our lives.”

This stifled a laugh out of the boy, Hajime clapping his shoulder once he had finished tying his tie and moving over to his own suitcase across the room. “Probably not. You’re not going to drink at all, then?”

Hajime was rooting through his belongings, looking for a tie of his own. “Just one or two at most, bud. I’ll be sober enough to be there if you need me.”

Kokichi sat down on his bunk, figuring he could wait for his father. He still couldn’t grasp the fact that he’d be on the mainland in less than 24 hours. He looked at his dress shoes--they had to be borrowed from Gundham because he had managed to grow out of two pairs within the year--and felt the rocking of the boat beneath him. His Dad had told him a bit ago that these old holding cells were the ones the Remnants were brought to Jabberwock in and explained that he and Nagito had shared one because Hajime had been the only one considered capable of subduing him. Although they had been despaired and his Dad hadn’t been the exact same person he was now, the thought of his parents in their early twenties actually  _ forced  _ to spend time together made him smile. They were inseparable now; the fact that his Papa had actually gone to the event without waiting for his Dad was incredibly surprising.

“Dad, can I tell you something?” 

“Of course.” Hajime turned to watch Kokichi, looking over him carefully. “You okay?”

“Yeah! I’m fine, I just,” Kokichi wringed his hands in his lap, “even though it sucks that I found out in the first place, I really like how close we’ve gotten ever since that night in the Ruins.”

The brunet smiled warmly and left his tie where it was, sitting next to Kokichi on the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. “Awe, Kichi, I like it too. You always took after Papa more; I like that you and I talk a lot more now.” He ran a calloused hand through gelled purple hair, trying to smooth cowlicks with his fingers. “You can tell me anything, you know. Either one of us. We’re both here for you and we both love you; we don’t want you to struggle alone. Okay?” Kokichi nodded and Hajime pressed a kiss into his cheek--it felt somewhat empty without Nagito kissing his other cheek at the same time, but he dismissed the thought. “I love you, Kichi.”

“I love you too,” Kokichi responded, hugging Hajime back before his dad stood and continued what he had been doing. They had been allowed to bring a suitcase with their essential items inside into their cabins, but all of their bulkier items had been put on a different level of the ship. Kokichi had helped load everything on, having to be nearly dragged out of bed by his Papa early in the morning so he could help him and Kazuichi begin to take truckloads to the docks. (About halfway through that, he left to go to the ranch and help Gundham and Sonia round up the animals to bring. They all had waited around a few hours for the Future Foundation to arrive, and once the ship was ported, he had to reload everything back on. Truthfully, the teen was exhausted and his muscles were sore, but he knew he wouldn’t be getting much sleep the next few days anyway. Plus, he knew going to the banquet would make his parents happy, so he figured he could suck it up for a few hours and then knock out the second he would be allowed to go back to their room.

Hajime had finished everything he needed to, spraying himself down with Nagito’s favorite cologne of his before turning to Kokichi. The boy was sprawled out on his bed, arm draped over his eyes, and he groaned quietly when his Dad nudged him.

“Hey, come on, get up,” Hajime said, arms crossed as Kokichi lazily rolled off of the bunk, “You don’t have to be there long. Just enough to eat and be present.”

The purple-haired boy feigned annoyance (to a degree, anyway) and waited for his Dad to grab their room key before following after him. The rest of the ship wasn’t quite as decorated as their cabins were; in fact, it seemed like the Foundation only focused on making sure the rooms were made comfortable. Everywhere else, the walls and floors were solid concrete and any of the doors that they happened to pass were made of steel or iron. Kokichi absentmindedly grabbed hold of Hajime’s jacket sleeve, keeping close to him even though they were the only two there and there were obviously no threats to them. The banquet hall was a few floors up. The boy was relieved to see that it had at least been decorated and appeared to be normal like their cabins. He let go of his Dad before they walked in, smoothing the fabric out for him.

Tables draped with white cloth were scattered throughout the room, each and every one at full capacity from what Kokichi could see. When they came through the doors, a handful of heads turned; those who had been Remnants lit up and called out their names. Hajime went to every table that summoned them, Kokichi glued to his side awkwardly, as he wasn’t sure where his Papa was and didn’t want to wander in a strange place. Mahiru gave Hajime a kiss on the cheek when he ducked down to hug her and Kazuichi begged him to do a shot with him at the bar. Ibuki, Sonia, Mikan, and Gundham had been the ones to focus on Kokichi more, making sure he was doing alright amidst all of the change. Eventually though, his Dad was able to break from their groups--promising Kaz that they would do shots at some point in the night--and went and found where Nagito had been sitting.

His younger father had been chatting away with Naegi; the brunet was being polite as ever and was trying his hardest to be present in the conversation, but both Hajime and Kokichi knew that Nagito had a tendency to ramble. (He was especially fond of Naegi for whatever reason, Kokichi noted; he figured it was probably because he looked like Hajime.) Upon seeing his husband though he smiled wide and stood up, throwing his arms open to embrace the man and give him a big kiss. The teen made a face in reaction and heard Kirigiri laugh; he turned his head, not realizing that she had been there due to her quiet nature. She didn’t visit as often as Naegi did, but he had met her enough times to be comfortable with her.

“Do they do this to you often, Kokichi?” Her smooth voice was gentle and kind, a smile on her lips. The boy felt himself ease a bit, playfully rolling his eyes and nodding. Hajime turned to plant a hand on Kokichi’s shoulder and shoved him teasingly.

“Oh, hush. You’re fine; sit down.” Not wanting to sit next to someone unfamiliar, Kokichi took his place between his parents, Nagito putting an arm around him to pull him close and kiss his cheek in greeting.

“Hi, Kichi,” the man was content in his surroundings, already a bit tipsy, “you doing okay?”

Kokichi nodded, pulling his chair in a bit further. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

A hum from his Papa. “Good.” He gave him another kiss on the cheek before leaving him be, moving back to his conversation.

That was when Kokichi caught sight of someone he hadn’t recognized. Sitting on Naegi’s left side and appearing to be just as shrunken in and shy as Kokichi was a boy that seemed to be around his age, smiling politely as he listened to Hajime and Kirigiri converse. He had short, dark blue hair that hung in his eyes a bit and coated only his lower lashes in mascara. His hands were tucked sheepishly in his lap and his cheeks were flushed pink.

He was... very pretty. Kokichi caught himself staring, the sound of his Dad’s voice fuzzy in his ears.

Not only was he pretty, but he was Kokichi’s age.

There was  _ someone his age  _ in front of him. 

“...kichi?” He felt his Dad lightly elbow him in the side and he was brought back to reality, turning to look at him. Kokichi could feel heat in his cheeks and on the tips of his ears as he blinked up at him owlishly, almost slightly confused; the edges of Hajime’s eyes softened and his mouth hung open in slight surprise--at what, Kokichi wasn’t sure. Nagito’s voice next to the both of them pulled their attention.

“Oh! Kokichi! You haven’t met Shuichi-kun yet, have you?” His gray-green eyes were bright and happy and Kokichi found that the sight of his Papa so content made him jubilated. Naegi and Kirigiri also hummed in realization, nodding and setting down their drinks. The teen felt several pairs of eyes shift to him and he squirmed a bit, grinning shyly and shaking his head. Nagito pointed across the table to the other boy and when their eyes met, Kokichi felt his heart skip.

“Kichi, this is Shuichi-kun, Naegi and Kirigiri’s son!” Upon Nagito’s introduction, Shuichi smiled and gave a small wave, seeming just as nervous as the purple-haired boy was. “You guys are the same age, so you should talk to one another! I think you’d get along well.”

Shuichi let his hand fall back into his lap and bowed his head slightly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same goes here,” Kokichi replied, feeling his gall returning fairly quickly. He scooted backwards on his chair so he could sit up taller (his feet couldn’t even reach the ground) and tilted his head. “Hey, you’re going to go to high school, right?”

The other teen nodded. “Yes. I’m fourteen, so I’m going to be a freshman this year.”

“What high school?” Kokichi leant forward to grab his water, taking a drink.

“Spring Field Academy.”

The smaller boy raised his eyebrows, swallowing and setting his cup down. “Oh! Really?” He turned to look at Nagito, who had been watching the two converse with a swell of pride in his chest. “Papa, didn’t you go to Spring Field Academy?”

Nagito instantly shook his head and Kokichi cursed his luck; he had been hoping the alcohol had inhibited him enough for the truth to slip. “No, no, I went to Spiral.”

Kokichi felt a sharp burn against his thigh--he let out a yelp, looking over to his Dad, who was just looking at him with a blank expression; however, his eyes were full of emotion, and it was definitely the ultra-specific emotion of ‘shut-your-mouth-I-know-exactly-what-you’re-trying-to-do-and-you’re-not-gonna-do-that-here’. That look along with the pinch was enough to shut him up.

“What high school are you going to go to?” Shuichi politely asked; he sounded interested, but Kokichi felt like it was only obligated interest.

“Imperial High School.” The teen tried not to sound too disappointed as he made a face. Nagito tensed a bit next to him--he knew Kokichi wasn’t too happy about it and still felt bad--but Hajime wanted to crawl under the table and die from embarrassment. Naegi and Kirigiri could obviously sense the discomfort and were quick to look at Shuichi, gentle smiles on their faces.

“Shuichi, this will be Kokichi’s first year where he won’t be homeschooled.” Naegi’s voice was soft like it always had been. “You’ll have to give him some tips and pointers later!”

“Oh, that’s true,” Kirigiri chimed in.

The blue-haired boy smiled, nodding and glancing in Kokichi’s direction. “Sure, that’s fine. After dinner maybe?”

The intense yellow gaze upon him made Kokichi’s face heat up again and he cleared his throat, instinctively reaching up for his flyaways that weren’t there this time around. “Um, yeah, sure.”

Hajime rubbed his temple, feeling a migraine in his near future; he loved Kokichi with all of his heart, but at times he tended to be as frustrating as Nagito used to be. Komaru, who was seated on his left side, let out a chuckle as she reached out and put a hand on his suited arm.

“Just breathe, big guy,” she said, tilting her head with a grin, “He’s still a kid. Kids will be kids.”

Kokichi could sense his Dad’s annoyance with him so he opted to keep his mouth shut for a while, sitting closer to his Papa and leaning against his shoulder as he laughed and drank. Dinner had been brought out eventually; the teen hadn’t realized they’d actually let Teruteru help cook (he thought for sure the Foundation would fear he’d slip poison in, which was stupid), but it helped Kokichi feel a bit more comfortable about what they were eating, strangely enough. It all tasted familiar; he had a feeling he would cling to anything that even remotely reminded him of home for a long time.

Eventually the tension had dissipated and his Dad seemed to be alright again, laughing and smiling in conversation. He was on his second mimosa, so Kokichi assumed he was well on his way to forgetting that he had even irritated him; he had no idea how many drinks his Papa had gone through, but at one point he had let Kokichi have a sip. It was sweet and fruity, but the notes of alcohol beneath it made the teen scrunch his nose in disgust. Nagito laughed, taking a drink himself before setting it back down.

“At least now I know you wouldn’t have gotten into the island liquor cabinet,” he joked, tucking pink hair behind his ear, “this is a peach bellini, so it’s on the sweeter side as compared to whiskey or vodka. I don’t like sweet things that much, but this is an exception. Margaritas are my favorite.”

Kokichi felt his head grow heavy as they sat there a bit longer after dinner, listening to the adults talk as he sat in bored silence. At one point though, Ibuki had gotten up and was attempting to play music through a Foundation laptop that they had hooked up to a speaker for her, yelling something about wanting to dance and party and celebrate. That was when Kokichi realized his Papa was definitely drunk, because rather than shrinking at the noise, he cheered and stood up, pulling on Hajime’s arm to get him to dance with him. After a bit of resistance, Kokichi’s Dad finally gave in, excusing himself from the other adults to satiate his husband. Komaru followed right behind them, dragging Toko with her, and Naegi and Kirigiri also got up at one point (much to Kirigiri’s chagrin). He had to admit, Shuichi’s parents seemed like a cute couple--Kirigiri was quiet and Naegi was outgoing and they paired well together, like cheese and fine wine.

This just left both teens at the table by themselves, sitting in awkward silence as they weren’t sure of what to talk about. At one point Shuichi took out his cell phone and was messing with it beneath the table; if they were friends, Kokichi might have asked him what he was doing, but instead he rested his elbow on the table with a sigh. He sat his chin in his hand and closed his eyes, wondering when it would be considered ‘socially acceptable’ to go back to their room to sleep.

“So... you’ve been homeschooled up until now?”

Kokichi opened his eyes at the sound of the gentle voice, looking over at Shuichi who had set his phone down and was watching him interestedly. The purple-haired boy nodded, letting out a yawn.

“Yeah, my Dad has taught me ever since I was little.” Kokichi snorts. “For some reason, he can’t keep teaching me, so I have to go to an actual school now.”

“Um... I’m sorry if I’m rude for asking, but,” the tips of Shuichi’s ears redden in embarrassment, “which one?”

“Huh?”

“Which dad is considered your ‘Dad’?”

“Oh.” Kokichi looks back at the dance floor, where his fathers are dancing (badly) and laughing with one another. “Hajime is my Dad and Nagito is my Papa.” He takes a drink of his water, not thinking much of it.

Shuichi shifts in his seat and speaks after a beat of silence. “You mean, um, Hinata is your Dad? And... Komaeda is your Papa?”

Kokichi mentally slaps himself; he doesn’t consider that most people probably knew them by their surnames. “Yes, sorry.”

As talkative as he was, the smaller teen apparently wasn’t in the mood to converse tonight, tiredly sitting there in boredom without much regard for Shuichi. The blue-haired boy was desperate to make friends, however, and leant forward in his seat. (He also might have been told to by his parents.)

“D-Do you have a phone? We could trade numbers if you want. That way if you have any questions about the mainland once you’re there you could get ahold of me!”

“I was never allowed to have one.” Kokichi wasn’t sure of what else to say, and Shuichi was at a loss for words also, so the two teens opted to just sit there and toy with the tablecloth awkwardly. The purple-haired boy tried to tell himself that he had an excuse--he had been raised by a bunch of socially-distanced adults--but part of him knew that this didn’t matter; he didn’t want to admit it, but he was slightly intimidated by the other teen. But he couldn’t place why.

“B-But, if I happen to get one, I’ll have my Dad text your Dad and give my number to you.” Pulling out his chair, Kokichi let out a yawn and glanced out at the dance floor. They were playing something slow now--he recognized it as older American music, which his Papa tended to like. When Hajime would have to stay overnight at the Ruins when Kokichi was really young, his Papa would bring out an old record player Kaz found at Electric Avenue and play jazzy records. Frank Sinatra had been their shared favorite, and they never listened to it when Hajime was around; it felt like a special thing between the two of them and Kokichi savored it. He looked out to Nagito to see if he was looking for him too, but his Papa’s head was tucked against his Dad’s, hands around his neck as they shared a dance.

He didn’t want to bother Hajime for the room key in the middle of this, so he opted to go to the bathroom, awkwardly bidding Shuichi goodnight and leaving him at their table alone. He figured he could just splash his face with water to wake him up just enough to make it back downstairs and crawl into bed.

The music was muffled by the walls enough for Kokichi’s thoughts to clear a bit. Naegi was also there, fixing his jacket cuffs and tie in a full-length mirror. The man turned and waved happily at the teen when he walked in, making the boy smile as he made his way to the sink, turning on the cold water. Naegi paid him no mind as he splashed his face; the bitterness of the cold helped his eyes feel less sunken into his head, but didn’t wake him up much further than that. 

“You doing alright, Kokichi?” Naegi’s voice--it sounded so similar to his Papa’s--broke the silence and made Kokichi turn his head. He felt his lips curl slightly; all of the adults insisted in asking him that as though the transition to the mainland was devastating to him. It was a huge change, sure, and Jabberwock was going to be a dull ache in his chest for a while, but he wasn’t shaken up over it. His family had come along with him and that was all he needed. If he had been alone, it would have been a different story.

“I’m alright, thank you, Naegi-san,” Kokichi responded, drying his face with a paper towel and tossing it into the bin, “just tired. I’m gonna go ask my dads for our room key in a minute.”

“That’s good! I’m glad you’re doing okay.” The Foundation agent grinned with his teeth, adjusting his tie. “I know this is a big change for you. If you need anything, please don’t ever hesitate to let us know--” he turned his head, “--and I mean specifically  _ us.  _ Kyoko, Shuichi, and I. I know we’re from the Foundation and have been kind of ‘professional’ towards you all this time, but I want you to think of us as friends, because we are.” It never ceased to amaze Kokichi how gentle Naegi was. Even when he should have been mad he wore a smile. With as much as his parents adored him, Kokichi figured he would be seeing a lot of him in the future, especially if they were trying to get Shuichi to be his first real friend. (Not that he necessarily minded.)

“Thank you, Naegi-san.” Kokichi wiped whatever he hadn’t gotten with the paper towel off with his sleeve. His Dad would have had a fit if he saw him do that in a suit. “It really does mean a lot.”

“Of course!” Soft eyes were bright as Naegi took a step back from the mirror, fixing his hair. A question bubbled in Kokichi’s throat and he forced it out before the man had a chance to leave; he really shouldn’t have.

“Naegi-san, you’re the headmaster of Hope’s Peak Academy, aren’t you?”

The way the man tensed did not go undetected by the young teen and a spark of intrigue flickered in big purple eyes. However, Naegi just smiled and nodded.

“Yes I am.”

Kokichi knew how to read the minds of most adults. He knew that Naegi was expecting him to ask if he could enroll; to play right into his hands would be too predictable, too easy. A finger curled into a flyaway that happened to bounce free from the gel at some point and he cocked his head innocently.

“Why doesn’t Shuichi-kun go to Hope’s Peak, then?”

Bingo. Naegi hadn’t expected this at all, his mouth hanging open slightly as his voice failed to come out. He looked Kokichi over, and before he could try to speak, the boy added,

“Are you afraid of something?”

Naegi blanched and his brokenness made Kokichi feel kind of bad. He seemed as if he should’ve been off-limits for the boy’s mind games, but he hardly had control of what he said anymore. It was as if someone was speaking for him, lies and cunning rolling off of his tongue like water with no consideration made beforehand. The headmaster looked at his shoes, struggling for a response. Kokichi suddenly felt exhausted again and didn’t want to put himself in an uncomfortable situation that he wasn’t entirely sure he’d remember.

“Actually, on second thought, forget I asked.” The teen gave a wave of his hand. “Goodnight, Naegi-kun! I’ll see you in the morning.”

It was  _ incredibly  _ shitty of him to just turn on his heels and leave the man there after prying like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The old music had changed into something a bit quicker in tempo; his Papa was still laughing and kissing and clinging to his Dad, but to interrupt them seemed much less inappropriate. The slower music had seemed more intimate.

Hajime had seen him first, head lifting in acknowledgement before he pressed his mouth to his husband’s ear, telling him something. Nagito turned his head, mouth hanging open in search, and when he caught sight of his son he smiled wide. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and he waved excitedly, Hajime’s strong hands gripping his waist to keep him from tumbling over in imbalance. His Papa was  _ always  _ happy to see him--not to say his Dad wasn’t, but Nagito always made it clear, no matter who they were around. It was... really reassuring.

“Hi, baby!” Nagito scooped the teen into his arms and sloppily kissed his cheek, Kokichi wrinkling his nose a bit as he wiped the spit off with his sleeve. “What’s up?”

“I wanna go back to the room,” he said, looking between his fathers, “if that’s okay. I’m really tired.”

Nagito let out a disappointed hum, big green eyes sad and glassy, but Hajime nodded as he looked back to the mix of people on the dance floor.

“Yeah, that’s fine...” he trailed off as he sought for someone, “I just... need to tell Kaz I’ll be right back.”

Kokichi’s brow furrowed. “Why? I can just take the key.”

“There’s only one key and both your father and uncle are drunk. If you fall asleep with the key inside the room, if I can’t wake you up to unlock the door, we’re stuck in the hallway all night.”

The teen didn’t argue; that made sense. Nagito had his head resting against his husband’s shoulder, finding comfort in his warmth, and when Hajime had managed to get Kazuichi’s attention, he finally let him go. His Papa and Uncle gravitated to one another, laughing about something that Kokichi was pretty sure they wouldn’t have if they were sober.

“With them keeping an eye on each other, let me take you down,” Hajime said and Kokichi nodded, following his Dad out of the ballroom.

The hallways seemed much more eerie now that it was nighttime, the ocean outside of the windows dark and black against the navy sky. Stars were littered there; they were more visible even away from Jabberwock, because here there was absolutely no light. Kokichi’s hand sought for Hajime’s sleeve again, and when he caught it, he found himself mindlessly moving to hold his hand instead. His Dad didn’t argue. The three of them silently seemed to want to cling to the days when Kokichi had been little and much more innocent and free of the stresses he had now. He couldn’t recall the last time he had held Hajime’s hand. His mind drifted momentarily to sobbing on Kamukura’s shoulder in the Ruins and he forced himself to return to reality. His Dad’s cologne was much fainter now, likely rubbed off on Nagito from holding him so close all night.

“I can’t believe you tried to pull that shit during dinner,” Hajime said, and although his voice was tense, his grip on Kokichi’s hand didn’t loosen as he led him through the hallways and down another set of stairs. The teen’s cheeks darkened and burned in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he said, because he was. He was tired and didn’t feel like dealing with confrontation right now.

Hajime wanted to rant to him about how it made him and Nagito look bad and made the Naegis uncomfortable, but he was also tired, and babysitting two tipsy people wasn’t helping. They had reached their room and his Dad fished the key out of his breast pocket, unlocking the door and letting his son inside.

“Thanks Dad.” Kokichi smiled, dark circles underneath his eyes. Hajime sighed and smiled back, reaching out to ruffle thick purple hair. The gel came off between his fingers.

“You’re welcome, Kichi. We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Kokichi nodded. “Okay.”

Hajime pulled the door closed, but right before it clicked shut, he held it open and rested his head against the crack. “We love you.”

“I love you guys too.” The response was immediate and even though his parents were close by, Kokichi found himself wanting to run into their arms from missing them too much.

The door shut and Kokichi was left by himself, looking at the few suitcases that littered the room. His Papa’s jacket was draped against the bedspread on the other bunk bed and his Uncle Kaz’s beanie was tossed on the floor. He changed into more comfortable clothes and tried to get all of the gel out of his hair the best he could, turning the lights off and crawling into the bottom bunk of his bed.

His mind drifted many places in a short amount of time, leaving off on Shuichi and Imperial right before he fell asleep, his body heavy between the sheets.

He had stirred a bit when his parents and uncle returned later into the night, but a familiar metal hand in his hair and soft whispers into his ear to go back to sleep quickly pulled him back under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shuichi gets to be the child of naegi and kirigiri because i say so. i'm going to try and keep kokichi's view of shuichi neutral so you can view their friendship as squishy if you ship them and normal if you don't!
> 
> also in udg nagito said he likes salty things to sweet things so i think he would like margaritas a lot
> 
> i'll respond to any old comments tomorrow afternoon; i have to work early in the morning and am super tired.
> 
> thank you for your patience!! see you soon xx


	22. Hajime and Nagito I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kokichi seeks reassurance from his parents the day before his first day of high school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello!! 
> 
> i'm happy i was able to get this one out quicker to you guys than the last chapter! 
> 
> i keep bouncing between a few wips but always finish this one before i can make it remotely close with the other ones haha.
> 
> warning for a mild nsfw joke but there's nothing actually nsfw!
> 
> enjoy xx

The transition to the mainland wasn’t as difficult as Kokichi had expected it to be.

It was now that he truly understood how filthy  _ rich  _ his Papa was--they had always told him that he’d inherited a large sum of money, but the boy didn’t realize how much that was on an island where everything was paid for. Their house was huge and had walls that echoed when your heels clicked the tile; there were multiple empty rooms that they had yet to figure out what to do with them. Kokichi had been allowed to have the entire upstairs loft to himself, which alone was at least three times as big as his cabin had been. Nagito hadn’t seemed to mind it much--because he had grown up like this, Hajime explained to Kokichi one day--but the teen and his other father were a bit out of their element here. Even with the three of them there, it felt a bit... lonely.

“Maybe if you were still little and running all over the place,” Hajime laughed, helping Kokichi stock his bathroom, “but now that you’re older, it’ll be kind of quiet.”

“Just have another baby, then.” Kokichi quipped quickly and nearly made his father choke.

“Do you realize how hard it was to get you?” Hajime smiled, but there was a twinge of sadness behind his mismatched eyes. “You’re all we’ll ever have, Kichi.” To save any unnecessary angst, he reached out to ruffle the messy purple hair, making the teen grin. “But that’s fine with us. I promise.”

He had gotten a few weeks of a summer to spend getting used to everything around him. The suburbs they lived in had been rebuilt along with the city close by; the Foundation had been careful to place the Remnants within revived areas of civilization as to not tempt them to revert back to their old tendencies. That was... pretty fucking stupid, Kokichi thought, because several decades on an archipelago was plenty of time to learn from your mistakes. But he had no say in it whatsoever, and even if he voiced his opinions to his Dad, he was usually quick to brush him off as to not touch sore subjects.

Those few weeks were spent helping his parents fix up their house--they’d painted so much that the smell of thinner was stuck in his nose for days after they’d finished. He’d hung out with his Uncle Kaz a few times as well as his Aunt Ibuki; Peko, Nekomaru, and Akane promised to train with him soon, and Hiyoko came over one afternoon to help him with eyeliner. He wasn’t sure if he’d see much of Ryota or Twogami now that they weren’t coexisting. Kokichi was neutral about this--while he’d grown up with them around, their absence would sting as expected, but he was sure the animator had told Twogami all about what happened that one day, and if he was still liked then he would be surprised. Severing ties was all part of becoming an adult, he supposed.

_ Becoming an adult. _

That was the part of the mainland that scared him the most. His parents had sat him down a couple of times to talk about high school again, but it was nothing daunting; they just asked him questions and informed him of his classes, resources available, things of the like. The evening was a warm one and Kokichi had his window cracked open, hoping that some of the outside air would help cool him down as he laid atop his quilt, staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow was his first day. His uniform was hung on his closet door and he already dreaded having to wear it on a daily basis--black slacks, black button up, brown dress shoes. It was so melancholy, he felt, and the thought made him snicker.  _ How fitting, huh? _

The more he thought about it, the more it made his stomach turn. They all had talked about it again over dinner and he hadn’t felt the way he was now. His Papa’s gentle eyes had studied him so intensely as his Dad poked and prodded at him with his words to ensure their son was truly alright. And he  _ had  _ been. They’d even let him have an entire litre of soda to himself in celebration of the big step he was taking the next day. He hadn’t even gotten sick.

Unless the uncomfortable feeling in his belly was the result of that. But something told him it wasn’t, because he felt it in his chest, too.

His phone buzzed on his nightstand and he turned his head, hardly registering it for a moment before reaching out to see what it was.

_ shuichi: I can’t sleep. Are you having trouble, too? _

Making a face, Kokichi scrunched his nose in amusement as he quickly typed back.

_ -you’re trying to sleep at 8 at night? _

He hadn’t gotten a chance to exit out of the messaging app before he got a response.

_ shuichi: What, you don’t? _

_ -i mean.... no?? but then again on the island we weren’t really slowing down until about 9:30-10 anyway _

_ -loser _

_ -going to bed at 8 _

Shuichi just sent a deep fried cat meme back in response, prompting Kokichi to lock his phone and toss it next to him on the bed.

They had legitimately become close friends, much to the happiness of their parents. Sure, it had been forced a bit at first, but the boys quickly realized they enjoyed the other’s company, and aside from his parents, Shuichi was the first number Kokichi had put into his phone when he was first given one. They surprisingly had a bit in common; they enjoyed trying to solve mysteries and liked to read. Shuichi was on the calmer, introverted side while Kokichi loved to talk and was full of energy, but they somehow balanced each other out when they were near one another. Nagito and Hajime were thrilled that Kokichi had actually managed to make a friend.

Thinking of his parents made his chest ache harder. He furrowed his brow.  _ They’re just downstairs. You’re going to school, not to war. You’ll be fine. _

Still, no matter how much he tried to shrug it off, he found himself wanting his parents, and ultimately he slid off of his bed and began to make his way to their bedroom.

The carpet was plush beneath his feet as he took the stairs down to the floor level. The corridors were long and full of rooms, but his parents had the master bedroom in the back of the house. Their closet was a walk-in and Kokichi had entertained himself by pretending to sleep on one of the shelves while they moved things inside. Their bed was the biggest one Kokichi had ever seen in his life--far too big for just two people--and the TV that they chose to hang was at least twice as big as theirs back home.  _ Wait, fuck. _

This  _ was  _ home now. Jabberwock was gone. They’d never go back.

He had reached their room before he thought about the island too much, gently nudging their door open to peek inside to see if they were awake and almost immediately reeled back.

Nagito was flat on his belly in the middle of their bed, Hajime straddling his hips and leaning over his body. His Papa’s face was buried in his arms and the quilt as he groaned, his husband’s hands pressed in the middle of his back and pushing down on his spine. Kokichi wasn’t sure what to make of this, body half in the room, half out.

“Um?” he blurted out, neither of his fathers flinching at the sound, “Lock the door?”

“What?” Hajime said, lifting his head as he shoved his hands down on a particular spot on Nagito’s back, a loud crack sounding and his Papa moaning into his forearms.

“You’re--??” Kokichi pointed to the display and Hajime made a face, kneading his hands into his husband’s shoulders.

“We’re not doing anything,” his Dad said matter-of-factly, Nagito mumbling nonsense, “we’ve got clothes on. Your father’s just tense and I offered to crack his back and help loosen his muscles a little.”

“...Okay.” Kokichi just stood awkwardly in the doorway, wringing his hands in front of him, and Nagito lifted his head. He was red in the face from the bloodrush and a smile was spread across his face per usual.

“What’s up, Kokichi?” His Papa rested his cheek against the quilt. “You alright?”

The teen just made a humming noise in response, brow furrowed, and his fathers frowned at the same time. His Dad climbed off of his Papa’s hips and helped pull him up so he could sit, his body loose now that he’d been relieved of a bit of the tension.

“Come here.” Hajime patted the bed next to them and Kokichi wasted no time moving over to them, clambering up and throwing himself into their arms like a ragdoll. It was like clockwork--his Papa’s hands moved to comb through his hair and hold one of his hands while his Dad was the one who held him upright. This happened every time, but the familiarity was nice.

“What’s wrong?” Nagito asked, voice soft as he tucked purple hair behind his son’s ear. Kokichi sighed through his nose as he looked down, purple eyelashes brushing against the apples of his cheeks.

“Just nervous,” the teen quietly replied. His fathers’ embraces immediately tightened and the gesture was enough to immediately calm him down a bit.

“Don’t be nervous. It’ll be okay.” Nagito tended to be the one who talked him down from an episode while his Dad was there to hold him. A metal thumb brushed over Kokichi’s brow. “You’ve gone through so much within this past month, and we’re so, so proud of you. Just think of this as the final hurdle. Just one more minor obstacle and then you’re home free.”

“High school is a tough transition, even for kids who have lived here their entire lives,” Hajime added, Nagito humming in agreement, “so trust me, you’re not the only one feeling this way. I’m sure more than half of your class is talking to their parents, too.”

“Did you guys like high school?” Purple eyes flicked up to look at his dads. “Be honest.”

Hajime’s hand twitched in warning on Kokichi’s side. Nagito exchanged a glance with his husband before shrugging. “I didn’t really mind it.

“I fucking hated high school.” Hajime said bluntly.

“I know you did.” Nagito replied.

“High school was bullshit.”

“I know it was.” Nagito replied.

“I hated it. I hated it so much.” His Dad’s hand shifted so he could lightly pap Kokichi in the face. He bumped his nose and made it sting a bit. “But that doesn’t mean that you will. You could love it; you just have to give it a chance.”

“Seriously... why can’t you keep homeschooling me?” Kokichi contemplated crocodile tears but knew they likely wouldn’t work, so he didn’t try. Hajime sighed.

“We have to work now, Kokichi. The Foundation is gearing me up to be one of their top agents; I legitimately don’t have time to teach you. If I could, I would, but it really is a good idea for you to be around other kids your age.”

Kokichi huffed, puffing out his cheeks. “I have Shuichi-kun!” 

“Yes, but it’s possible to have more than one friend, Kokichi.”

“Well--Shuichi could make friends at his school, and then he could introduce me to his friends, and then they can be my friends, too!” The boy crossed his arms stubbornly. “See? I don’t need to try and make any on my own. They can just transfer over.”

“I... It’s not that easy, Kokichi.” Nagito smiled apologetically.

“Right. Besides, it’s kind of selfish to assume that Shuichi will make your friends for you.” Hajime pulled Kokichi up a bit so he could lean on them a bit more comfortably for the three of them, Nagito moving to rest his cheek on top of his son’s head. “I’m sorry Kokichi, I know you’re upset about not being homeschooled anymore, but if you came down here to try and convince us to change our minds, you can go back upstairs now.”

That kind of stung a bit; the teen melted into their arms. “No... I just missed you guys.”

“Missed us?” Nagito laughed gently, squeezing Kokichi’s hand. “Honey, we’re right here. We’re not leaving you.”

“I know.” Kokichi felt warmth sting his eyes and closed them. He couldn’t exactly explain  _ why  _ he missed them and felt so distant all of a sudden--he just did. Nagito seemed to understand, wrapping his arms around him and tugging him close.

“Would it make you feel better to sleep in here for the night?” His Papa ducked his head a bit to see him better. “We promise we won’t judge you.”

Kokichi shook his head, shakily sighing. “...No.”  _ I’m too old for that; it’s not like I have to be coddled anymore.  _ “I just...” He buried his face in between his parents, shrugging his shoulders. His voice was muffled by their clothes. “I dunno.” They both smelled the same that they always did, and while it was a silly thing to find comfort in, if he closed his eyes it was almost as if they were still on Jabberwock.

Both dads just held him and they all sat there in silence, the only noise being the blades of the ceiling fan and crickets outside. Kokichi wondered if Shuichi sought safety in his parents all the time like he did. It kind of felt embarrassing to depend on them as much as he did, if he was honest; he felt like he was too attached even though they were his immediate family.

After a while, his Dad spoke. “You sure you’re okay?” Kokichi could feel his father’s voice vibrate against his chest where he rested his head. He lifted it, looking at both of his parents, who were watching him with gentle gazes. The boy let out a shaky sigh and nodded.

“...Yes.” He finally said.

Nagito’s smile was always enough to make Kokichi feel all warm and fuzzy; it was so, so genuine, and he reached out with his organic hand to tuck purple hair behind his son’s ear, cupping his face.

“It’ll be fine, Kichi, we promise.” He leant forward, pressing his lips to Kokichi’s forehead. “Now, you should probably go to bed. It’ll be an early morning tomorrow.”

Before Kokichi could agree, Hajime threw his legs over the side of their bed and scooped the teen up, tossing him over his shoulder with ease. The boy let out a yell, laughing along with his parents as he was carried out of their room and down the hallway.

“I’ll take you to school tomorrow like this if I have to,” his Dad said, arm strapped tight across the backs of Kokichi’s thighs to hold him in place. Hajime was always incredibly strong; the teen playfully thrashed and squirmed, but he wasn’t successful in escaping. His Papa followed behind them up the stairs to catch him in case he was dropped, happily babbling on about something to his husband as their son continuously tried to break free.

Hajime dumped Kokichi on his bed, the boy crawling underneath his covers almost immediately. He cast a glance to the uniform hanging in the corner and felt dread weigh down in his stomach again, but Nagito snapped his fingers to pull his attention back over.

“Please stop stressing out,” he said, voice soft, “high school is more often than not the best four years of your life. You’re going to have a blast.”

Kokichi, ever the King of Subtlety, glanced over to his Dad, whose mismatched stare bore right into his core. He didn’t have to ask to know that he was telling him that  _ yes, I know  _ our  _ high school years weren’t good, but yours will be fine.  _ The teen had become acutely aware of Kamukura in recent weeks, able to pinpoint when he bubbled closer to the surface than Hajime did. The concept of having three dads was wild to Kokichi, but he supposed it wasn’t exactly  _ wrong;  _ Hajime and Kamukura coexisted in the same body, so that counted as two people, right? He was able to tell when Kamukura was trying to comfort him as opposed to Hajime--the former was a lot more down-to-earth and logical in his reassurances, while Hajime tended to sugarcoat things a bit more. Either way, his Dad was his Dad, and it didn’t bother him at all.

“Go to sleep, okay?” Nagito gently asked, both parents ducking down to envelop Kokichi in a hug. He hugged back tightly, closing his eyes and trying to pretend he was back at Jabberwock again. When they finally let him go, they both kissed one of his cheeks like they had ever since he was little, giving him space and backing up towards the door.

“Goodnight, Kichi,” Hajime said. Nagito added almost immediately after, “We love you!”

“I love you guys too,” Kokichi replied, voice raspy with fatigue. His parents smiled at him as they closed the door, enveloping him in comfortable darkness.

He laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling and trying to accustom himself to the feeling of going to bed and waking up for school. On the island, his Dad usually waited until after breakfast was over to start schoolwork, which meant Kokichi was usually up by then anyway. For someone who knew how loved they were, he felt awfully empty for some reason, a shell of himself as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

His phone vibrated atop the covers on the other side of the bed. Kokichi turned his head, having forgotten that he’d put it there, and pulled it over to see what it was. To his surprise, he had several notifications; they all must have been sent while he was downstairs in his parents’ room. He read them all over, eyes growing glassier with each text.

_ uncle kaz: hey, kiddo!!! I just wanted to tell you to have a great first day of school tomorrow. i know you’ve been nervous about it..... you’ll do fine!! promise!!! _

_ auntibuki: heyyyyyy !!! ibuki wanted to say that she hopes your day is awesome tomorrow !!! call me when you get out and tell me alllllllllll about it, ok ??? ibuki can’t wait to hear !!! _

_ mahiru: Hi kokichi! :-) I'm just popping in to wish you luck! High school is such a big deal and these four years are going to go by fast! Cherish them! Talk to you soon hon, xoxo _

_ shuichi: To help you sleep, King _

_ shuichi:  _ [ _ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uk7acBVDHlQ _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uk7acBVDHlQ)

_ princess sonia: Good evening, Kokichi! It is Sonia, I want to tell you that I hope your day tomorrow is absolutely wonderful! I will be thinking of you all morning and afternoon. Hugs and kisses! _

_ mikan: hi, kokichi! have a good day at school tomorrow! you need to tell me how it went once you’re home, okay? or don’t! if you don’t want to that’s okay! i just would love to hear about it! that’s all, goodnight! _

_ gundham: Young One, the Devas are alerting me of a disturbance in your far-away aura. Is it perhaps that you are nervous, Mortal Child? May the wings of the Mirage Golden Hawk and Invading Black Dragon carry you well-wishes and peaceful thoughts as your honorary protectors until you have overcome this obstacle that you may be facing.  _

By some miracle, tears are not streaming down his cheeks by the time he reaches the last message, and Kokichi feels warm. If anybody knew how to make him feel loved, it was his family. If he weren’t so tired, he would respond to them all right then, but he clicks his phone shut and sets it on the pillow next to him. Turning on his side and relaying over their messages in his head, Kokichi quickly falls asleep, much more secure in himself than he ever had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the scene with nagito getting his back cracked legit only happened because i am in severe need of having someone crack my back. that feels so nice
> 
> also i want you all to know that i get so bored at work that most of these chapters--past and future--were conceptualized while i was standing at my register askdhfkl
> 
> shoutout to work for being my best brainstorming place


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